"Glad to see the house is still standing."

Mike said as his little sister ran up to him. "Can I come with you to work tonight?" "No." Mike didn't hesitate. He looked to Fancy.

"Hi." He said softly. "Thanks again for watching her, like I said, I'll pay you... eventually." "Mike it's fine." "Well if there's anything I can-" "Actually there is." Mike raised a brow at her, he wasn't expecting her to respond so fast or urgently. "You have a VHS player at work right?" mike nodded. "Yeah why." "Can I use it?" Mike sighed. "Yeah... yeah I guess so." he replied.

"Why does she get to go to work with you?" Abby complained with a frown. "Because... because she's weird and I have to keep an eye on her to make sure she doesn't commit some kind of felony." Fancy giggled. "I have to get ready for work anyways." "Oh Mike, there's still some Alfredo left over from dinner if you want some." "Alfredo? What happened to Stouffers?" "If you thought I was going to feed that garbage to your sister then you're actually crazier than I am." "Garbage?" "I made Alfredo. It was easy and I cleaned up. So you have nothing to worry about, and your sister ate something healthier than flash frozen lasagna." "Okay fine whatever."

Mike walked off to go find his sister who had run into her room with his vest for work. "Abby- no don't take that!" He shouted as he sped his walk into a run. "Abby-" Fancy could hear him from the living room, their banter heartwarming.

"Abby why are your polly pockets in your lizard tank?" "Fancy and I put them in there because they committed tax fraud." "You- you what?" He sighed. Fancy giggled from the livingroom, overhearing their exchange. "Do you even know what that is?" "Sure, Fancy told me. It's when you don't give the government the money they want. Do you think we can tell the police that aunt Jane does that? That way we don't have to worry about her anymore?" Mike sighed again. He pulled his vest out of her hands.

"No, Abby, we cannot accuse your aunt of committing tax fraud." "Hey!" She cried. "I want the vest!" He walked out of her room. "Did you really teach my little sister about tax fraud?" He asked Fancy who was holing in a laugh. "Maybe." She replied. Mike Rolled his eyes. "Look, Max is here and I'm running late." He checked his watch. "Come on, Fancy Drew." "Did you just-" "I did. Now let's go."

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

"So what did you need this VHS player for exactly?" Mike asked, the two of them entering that same familiar office, this time together at the same time.

"I have a tape from the police department, it's of some kind of interview from the investigation with the five missing children. It's part of the case file, you probably aren't supposed to view it-" Fancy shrugged. "I hardly think Officer Hayden Hurst will care." She did a fake professional gruff accent when she said the name of the officer who was supposed to be observing her internship. Mike chuckled.

"So he really is a jerk like Vanessa said?" "Oh my god, Mike you don't even know. He's just awful. Misogynistic and just ew." "Just ew, huh?" "yes! And he makes me call him sir! He's not even like thirty! And he makes me call him sir!" Mike laughed again.

"What?" Fancy asked. "What is so funny?" "Nothing nothing it's just-" "Just what?" "you're so weird." Mike said as he shook his head. "One second you're acting like a literal lawyer, spitting out technical terms that I can't even hope to comprehend; you're researching serial killers, and now you're sitting here gossiping to me like some sort of 'it girl'. It's just, not what I was expecting." "I'm not what anyone expects." "That's for sure." Mike replied as he shook his head and Fancy pulled the tape from her bag.

"Now for the main event." She said as she wiggled the tape in the air, excitement in her voice. Was it sad that she got excited about these things? She couldn't tell anymore. She reached down and placed the tape in the player, pressed it closed, and then pressed play.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Static. Static rushing between sides of the scream and the screaming of mushy groaning pure sound- TV static. It only lasted less than a minute but it felt like the static looked into her soul, reaching and grasping for that tiny locked box in the back of her mind.

No.

No it couldn't have it. She couldn't open that box with those memories, not here, not now, not with mike present. He didnt need to know. He couldn't know. Shouldnt know. The static cleared and the TV showed the downward view of an interview table .

A table in a room with three men around it. On one side sat two officers and on the other sat a man that Fancy didn't recognize. One of the officers cleared his throat and tapped his stacked documents against the cold metal table. The sound echoed across the room and through the TV and straight into Fancy's ears.

"Alright, Mr. Patrick," He said, his voice sounded so tired.

Fancy imagined he was, absolutely exhausted. She put herself in his shoes, the unnamed officer assigned to the case originally when it was in it's prime days of investigation. Every lead he followed turned up cold. Nothing had worked out for this man in 1983 and it wasn't working out for her either. She was reaching the same roadblocks that he had. No evidence.

Wait, did he say Mr. Patrick? As in Ness?

"You willingly came in for this interview, correct?" The man across from them nodded. "I just want to help my community." He said. that voice. She knew that voice. But from where?

"Can you tell us what you know about *RETRACTED*."

Seriously? They were going to play this game? Give her the interview but not the top suspect's name. Fine. she knew who they were talking about anyways. But Mike didn't. Or maybe he did? The retracting of the name was probably for the best anyways since Mike most likely wasn't even supposed to be viewing this. Private police property, confidential, you know?

"Oh I know *RETRACTED* quite well. We're poker buddies. Every Wednesday evening we used get together at my house, his house, or Henry Schmidt's place. That was our group, the three of us. We used to play poker for hours and hours." "Would you say you knew *RETRACTED* pretty well?" "Yes I would say so." "So what can you tell us about December 30th 1983?"

"I can tell you that *RETRACTED* was at my house playing poker until 11:30pm. Roughly, of course." "Was Henry Schmidt there as well?" "As a matter of fact, he was not, he and his wife were out of town for some reason. I can't remember what exactly but I'm sure he could tell you himself if you really wanted to know." "So it was only you and *RETRACTED*?" "Yes." "What time did *RETRACTED* arrive at your address?" "I'd say about five thirty, uh ish."

One of the officers wrote something something down.

"Are you aware of the circumstances under which we are questioning you?" "The missing kids right?" "yes. Do you know anything about the missing children?" "I do not." "Do you know if *RETRACTED* killed them?" "He did not. He was playing poker with me." "Do you know where the bodies were hidden?" "I do not."

one of the officers sighed and shuffled his papers as he leaned back in his chair. "Alright Mr. Patrick I think that's all we have for you. You're free to go." "Thank you." Mr. Patrick said as he stood. "Uh, Mr. Patrick, one more thing," the other officer asked as he stood.

"Would you say that *RETRACTED* has a good poker face?"

"Yes."