Shannon slept little that night. Nightmares of creatures with no eyes and broken teeth kept her awake. Shannon didn't remember it, but Faye told her that at one point she had sat straight up and stretched her arms out like she was warding something off. It hadn't surprised Shannon to hear.

Shannon's mother watched her in concern all the way through breakfast. Shannon tried to act upbeat, but she was sure that the dark bags under her eyes gave her away. Una did not breach the subject, however, and Shannon had a plan, anyway.

The sun shone bright in the sky when Shannon went outside after breakfast. It had stormed all night long, even worse than it had during the day, but the rain had finally broken at the dawn. The rain had not cooled anything, though. The temperature had broken eighty degrees at eight in the morning and was steadily climbing. It was going to be a hot one.

Dyer's Park looked just the same as it did any other day. The trees blocked out all but tiny slivers of the playground and the three mossy picnic tables; on the inside, plenty of children had found their way back. There was nothing, nothing at all to suggest that the park hadn't been anything like this the night before.

Shannon had to make a conscious effort not to look as she made her way down the street. Her eyes felt magnetized, constantly pulled to look at the park. It was a strange, almost eager compulsion; it was watching a car wreck from the side of the road. She counted the cracks in the sidewalk to distract herself, the old rhyme sounding over and over again in her head: Step on a crack, break your mother's back.

Her count had reached eighteen when she heard someone call her name. She straightened in surprise and turned her head sharply towards the voice, like she'd just been caught doing something she shouldn't have been. Toni Guaraldi was giving her a toothy grin and waving frantically as she ran across the street.

"Hello, Shannon, my dear," Toni said as she skipped up to Shannon's side. "Long time, no see."

"Oh yeah, it's been ages," Shannon said sarcastically.

"You should come over to the park," Toni said, coming to a halt and forcing Shannon to stop with her. "Some of Gianni and Frankie's friends are there; we're having a kickball tournament."

If Shannon had to be honest, exactly none of that sounded appealing. She knew Gianni and Frankie and most of their friends fairly well, and while she didn't dislike any of them, she'd played kickball with them before. It was generally not a good idea to do anything competitive with any of them. Not when they played like the fate of the world hung in the balance. Shannon wasn't particularly good at kickball, either.

Apart from all of that, Shannon wasn't sure if she'd want to go into Dyer's Park ever again. There was already an uneasy twist in her stomach just looking at it, seeing how normal it looked today compared to the night before. Even in the bright sunshine, it seemed sinister.

"Aw, not today, Toni," Shannon said, looking appropriately apologetic. "I've already got plans."

That was not entirely a lie. Her plans were, granted, plans that only she was aware of, but they were plans nonetheless.

"Really?" Toni asked, disappointed. "What're you up to?"

Shannon hesitated, debating telling her. She had no real reason not to; what she was doing was perfectly innocent, in theory. She was more worried that Toni would pry—Toni always pried. She wasn't prepared to answer the tons of questions her best friend was certain to have.

"Going to see Mary Dent," Shannon said finally, after the strange look Toni was giving her told her she was taking too much time to answer.

"Ugh, that loon?" Toni said bluntly, wrinkling her nose. "Why would you want to see her?"

Shannon shrugged casually. "Just to talk, is all."

"Just to talk?" Toni repeated. She didn't seem convinced. "Talk about what? Did she invite you over or something?"

This was what Shannon was afraid of. Toni didn't like Mary Dent much; she lied too much. Toni couldn't stand being lied to. She was both blessed and cursed with brutal honesty, and expected everyone else to be the same way. Mary Dent was mostly harmless—the majority of her lies were of the ridiculous kind, not the insidious kind, but it was the principle of the thing for Toni. Shannon had known Toni would want a written essay on why she was going to see Mary.

"No, Toni," Shannon said. "There's just...something I wanted to talk to her about."

"Can't you tell me?" Toni asked, crossing her arms. Shannon really didn't need Toni to try to guilt trip her now.

"It's not that big a deal," Shannon said delicately, watching her friend carefully. She thought perhaps she ought to just tell Toni the truth. She could trust Toni; that was for certain. But the way Toni had reacted when she'd told her she was going to see Mary Dent gave her pause.

Toni didn't say anything either for a moment, just looked at Shannon with narrow slits for eyes. Just as Shannon was certain Toni was going to start getting angry with her, she shrugged.

"Suit yourself," she said. "You're welcome to join us if you change your mind."

She tossed a wave behind her back and ran off, back to the park.

Shannon stared in her wake for a moment after she disappeared. There was only a gentle breeze today; the leaves of the trees of Dyer's Park rippled and swayed. A child shrieked as she was chased across the grass by a friend. Near one of the picnic tables, a mother was comforting a crying infant. Just the same as any other day.

Shannon tore her gaze away from the park and continued on.

It didn't take long to get to the Dents' house—less than a five minute walk. There was a Rottweiler chained up in the front yard that always barked itself into a frenzy whenever someone walked by. The dog had never actually done anything to anyone except bark—never would, either, though it would live for fifteen long years. It yelped a few times as Shannon approached, then gave up; Shannon had been over to see Mary on occasion and the dog was starting to recognize her.

Shannon had barely knocked on the door before it was thrown open and the plump, merry face of Blanche Dent smiled out at her.

"Ah, hello, Miss Malone," Mrs. Dent said brightly. "Are you here to see Mary?"

"I'd like to, Mrs. Dent," Shannon said as the woman ushered her inside. The Dent's home was always cheerful and cozy, decorated by all kinds of trinkets and knick-knacks picked up from flea markets and bargain bins. Constantly hanging in the air, there was a faint aroma of freshly baked cookies.

"Mary's up in her room," Mrs. Dent said, gesturing to the stairs. "You can just go on up, dear."

Shannon thanked her before heading up the steps. Various pictures of Dent family members adorned the hallway.

Mary was lying on her stomach on her bed, feet in the air, flipping through a book. She slammed the book closed dramatically as Shannon came into the doorway and turned and faced the other girl, looking as if she was expecting a ghost to be there. She calmed down considerably when she focused on Shannon, rolling over and sitting up.

"Hey, Shannon," she said. "Why are you here?"

Mary Dent was not a particularly attractive child. She had a bit of a horse face, long and thin, with beady brown eyes and a sharp nose. Her blonde hair was long and stringy. She did, however, have a lovely smile—on the rare occasions she actually chose to smile—a peculiar anomaly that suggested perhaps someday she may be very pretty.

"Hi, Mary," Shannon said, stepping into the room. She fidgeted awkwardly with her hands, feeling nervous. Mary was peering at her curiously, and Shannon was suddenly painfully aware that she wasn't exactly sure what her aim was with this meeting. She didn't know exactly what she wanted to say, or what she wanted to hear.

"I just wanted to...ask you some questions," Shannon finally settled on, and Mary barely nodded. She patted the space on the bed next to her and Shannon crossed the room, sitting down as her mind whirred, trying to pick her best way of moving forward. Mary was still staring at her with intrigued eyes. Shannon looked at her cuticles.

"You know how you said Angela Carson was almost abducted by an alien?" Shannon began.

"Because she was," Mary said proudly, crossing her arms. "I know it."

"But how do you know it?" Shannon pressed. Mary huffed.

"Because my daddy said so. He's a police officer; he knows all about these types of things."

Shannon frowned. "Your father said Angela was almost abducted by an alien?"

Mary faltered, her expression changing. Mary never liked to explain herself; she preferred to be taken at face value. Perhaps if it had been otherwise, she would have gotten along better with Toni Guaraldi, who simply could not accept the wild stories Mary would tell, and certainly wouldn't think of changing her mind without any kind of context. It was because of this that Mary didn't speak right away, instead debating what she wanted to say to Shannon.

"Well, no," she conceded grudgingly, "he didn't say that exactly. But I could just tell from what he did say."

"What did he say?" Shannon urged, leaning forward. Mary pouted.

"Look, you wouldn't understand," Mary said, turning away from the other girl. "You don't know my dad like I do."

"Well of course not," Shannon reasoned. "I just want to know what he said that would make you think that Angela was nearly abducted."

"Shannon, you just don't—" Mary cut herself off abruptly and looked at Shannon through narrowed eyes. "Why do you want to know anyway? You don't believe me."

Mary stuck her nose in the air. Shannon was used to this from her; she had a large amount of pride, something she and Toni did share, and considered any type of doubt to be a personal affront. Shannon sighed.

"I'm...not sure if I believe you or not," Shannon said. "I just—I want to understand better."

Distrustful, squinty brown eyes regarded her.

"What do you mean?" Mary questioned before giving a sharp intake of breath. "Did you see something? You did, didn't you? Was it an alien? What was it?"

Shannon winced. Mary Dent's barrage of questions continued on, too many to keep track of. Mary had guessed. Shannon wasn't sure how she had caught on, but it was obvious she was sure of herself. Mary's eyes were bright; she seemed anxious, like she was waiting for Shannon to stop her, something Shannon herself wasn't sure she wanted to do. Once again, she didn't know what she wanted to say to Mary.

Mary ended up slowing herself to a stop. Her expectant eyes bore holes into Shannon, waiting for whatever Shannon was going to say. Shannon didn't like the look—it was like the gaze of a teacher who was waiting for an answer she didn't have.

"Well?" Mary prompted impatiently.

"I didn't really see anything," Shannon said carefully, a blatant lie.

"You didn't really see anything?" Mary scoffed. "What does that even mean?"

Shannon's mouth opened and closed several times, searching for words. Distrust was back on Mary's face.

"I—I just thought I might have seen something," Shannon said, hoping Mary would be satisfied. "It could have been an animal, though, or—or anything, really. I just...I was curious to know what your father said."

What had been in Dyer's Park the night before was no animal; of that, Shannon was sure. She could not bring herself to tell Mary the truth.

Mary peered out of the corners of her eyes quickly, as if making sure they were alone. She leaned in conspiratorially and Shannon followed her example. It was rare that Mary acted like this. Usually, Mary spoke with no hesitation, prideful of the information she was supplying. There was weight in the words to come.

"Listen," Mary began, voice low, "you can't tell, okay? I'm not supposed to talk about this."

Shannon was rather certain Mary wasn't supposed to talk about any of the details that she heard from her father, but she promised not to tell anyone anyway.

"Okay," Mary said, and if it was possible, she got even quieter. It was a bit ridiculous; the only other person in the house was Mrs. Dent, and she could be heard clunking around in the kitchen. "Well, you know how Angela Carson said she saw a monster."

Shannon nodded though Mary wasn't really asking. She was eager for Mary to get on with it. Mary took a deep breath.

"Well, I heard my daddy tell my mom that that makes him nervous." She looked to her sides once more. "He—he doesn't like what it could mean."

"What does that mean?" Shannon asked, and Mary flinched. She shushed Shannon harshly, arms flailing wildly by her sides.

"Keep your voice down!" Mary hissed, glancing towards the door as if she was expecting someone to spring up from the floor. When nothing happened, she turned her attention back to Shannon with pursed lips. "There's something you have to understand, Shannon, or none of this will make any sense to you."

"Yes?" Shannon asked eagerly.

"My daddy"—she paused, debating—"he takes a lot of the cases the other officers don't want. Or the ones the other officers are having trouble with. I've heard him telling my mom that sometimes the other officers get...scared."

"Get scared?" Shannon inquired. "Why?"

For a moment, Mary looked rather uncomfortable. She shifted restlessly and refused to meet Shannon's eyes. When she spoke, her gaze was directed at the bedspread.

"He says that sometimes things happen that don't really make sense. It makes the officers nervous."

"Don't make sense how?" Shannon urged. There was a prickly feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"I don't know, really," Mary responded. She seemed almost distraught. "My dad doesn't like to talk about it. Just sometimes clues don't add up, evidence points to strange things. Points to things that...aren't possible."

Shannon let Mary's words sink in. The thing from the previous night came to her mind—that wasn't possible.

"So, like Angela Carson saying she saw a monster...?" Shannon offered, and Mary nodded.

"Exactly."

Shannon considered that. "But Angela's only six. Couldn't she just be scared and confused?"

"Well, she could be, but what about all the other times things haven't made sense?" Mary said matter-of-factly. "And my daddy specifically said he didn't like what it could mean. I think Angela really saw something, and it has to be an alien."

"Why do you think that?" Shannon asked.

"Well, what else could it be?" Mary shrugged, as if the matter was as simple as that. It wasn't particularly logical; Shannon could think of many things Angela Carson could've seen emerge from the library that night—realistic or otherwise—that had nothing to do with aliens, but she didn't try to argue with the girl. Once Mary Dent got something into her head, it was hard to change her view.

"So you think," Shannon began slowly, choosing her words carefully, "that Angela Carson was almost abducted by aliens because she said she saw a monster, and sometimes things happen on your father's cases that don't make sense?"

Shannon frowned. She'd been hoping for something more concrete, something more in general. Mary hadn't given her much of anything, really, besides her own speculation. Shannon needed more.

Mary pulled an ugly grimace, whining petulantly, "Ugh, I knew you didn't believe me. You just don't understand."

Shannon wanted to protest, she wanted to tell Mary to help her understand, but something told her there wasn't much Mary could do on that score. She wanted information she feared Mary couldn't give her.

"I want to understand," Shannon mumbled forlornly. Mary scoffed.

"I don't see why it matters so much to you if you 'didn't really see anything.' Some morbid curiosity you've got."

That was so ironic Shannon almost laughed. She figured Mary wouldn't appreciate it, though. The blonde was still sulking, nose stuck proudly in the air.

"I guess I am just curious," Shannon said gently. "That's why I came to you. You always know the most."

Shannon knew the best way to get back on Mary's good side was to appeal to her vanity. Mary eyed her dubiously for exactly one second before she cracked a small smile.

"I just have ways of finding things out," she said, stroking her own ego. Her "ways" mostly consisted of eavesdropping on her parents' and other people's conversation, but saying that didn't sound as good.

"Mary," Shannon said, directing the conversation back to where it began, "did your father say if Angela described what she saw?"

"You mean the library?" Mary asked. "Same stuff I'm sure you've heard all over town—library a mess, broken bookshelves, destroyed books, Sarah dead—"

"No, not that," Shannon interrupted. "I mean, did she say what the monster she saw looked like?"

Mary opened her mouth immediately to respond, then paused. She frowned slightly in concentration, trying to recall if anything had been said. Her brown eyes looked to the ceiling, as if she might find the answer there.

"I think she said something about it having six fingers?" she said uncertainly. "My dad didn't say much about what exactly Angela said."

Shannon's blood ran cold. That was concrete. Six fingers—that couldn't be a coincidence.

"But anyway," Mary continued, "you know what would have six fingers? An alien."

Shannon suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. Mary seemed particularly proud of herself; a smug grin formed on her face and she raised her eyebrows, daring Shannon to contradict her. Shannon, however, said nothing, still thinking of six fingers. White, sharp, unkind fingers on the hand of some kind of beast.

"Thank you, Mary," Shannon said quietly, looking past the girl. Mary shrugged.

"Yeah, sure," she said. "But remember, you can't tell anybody."

No one would believe me if I did.

"Of course, Mary," Shannon said, rising from the bed. "I should get going now; I've got, uh, stuff to do."

Mary quirked a brow and shook her head slightly, thoughtfully. "You're kinda strange, you know that?"

Shannon agreed readily as she walked to Mary's door.

"Oh, and Shannon?" Mary called once the other girl was in the hall. Shannon turned back, sticking her head back into Mary's room. "You let me know if you really see anything. I want half-credit for alien discovery."

Shannon smiled wryly. "You bet."

Mrs. Dent was still in the kitchen when Shannon made it downstairs. The radio was on, and Mrs. Dent bopped happily to "Sh-Boom" as she washed dishes.

"Leaving so soon, Shannon?" she asked, not even looking up from the plate she was working on.

"Yes, Mrs. Dent," Shannon replied. "My, uh, mother's expecting me."

"Well, all right, dear. You can let yourself out, can't you? I'd come see you off, but my hands. Sudsy."

She held one hand up as if to prove her point, using the other to set the plate in the drying rack.

"Of course, Mrs. Dent," Shannon said.

"And you come over any time you want, all right?" Mrs. Dent said, smiling wide. Her eyes were the same brown as Mary's, but warmer and wider. Kind.

"I will."

It had grown even hotter outside in the time Shannon had been in the Dents' house. The Rottweiler in the front yard barked once weakly at her as she walked by, then turned away, flopping down in the shade. Out in front of her, Shannon could see the heat rising off of the pavement.

Shannon's thoughts were focused solely on her discussion with Mary Dent as she made her trek home. Angela Carson had seen something in the library on the night of Sarah Benadine's death—a monster with six fingers. That's what she claimed, anyway. Shannon was convinced, though; she didn't know if it was an alien, as Mary Dent insisted, but she was sure that whatever she had seen the previous night in the park was the same thing Angela Carson had seen in the library. Six fingers. It had to be the same.

Toni was still in the park with her brothers when Shannon walked past. She could hear them yelling at each other—a dispute over the game, something Shannon wanted to get involved in when hell froze over. Every Guaraldi had a voice that could carry for miles, something hard to tune out when it wasn't being used to scream nasty insults. Shannon reached her front porch just as Gianni shouted something unsavory about Toni's mother—an odd choice of an attack, given the circumstances. She was inside before Toni gave her retort, but she had no doubt it was something crushing.

"Ah, Shannon."

The air in the room suddenly seemed much colder, though Shannon could not explain why. David Sheffield was in her living room with her parents, and all three of them had their eyes fixed expectantly on her. Almost without realizing she was doing it, she clenched her right fist.

"Hello, Mr. Sheffield," she greeted him, trying to keep her voice even. His presence unsettled her.

"Good to see you again, Shannon," Mr. Sheffield said with a smile that was manufactured. There was a strange sort of pain behind his eyes—well hidden, but Shannon could see the traces of it there.

"Why don't you join us, Shannon?" Shannon's father said. "This concerns you, too."

Shannon dug her nails into her palm as she forced a pleasant smile. "Oh?"

"Yes, dear," Shannon's mother confirmed. Una looked uncertain; she was obviously considering something, looking at Shannon as if she held the answer. Shannon found she couldn't meet her mother's gaze.

"What are you talking about?" Shannon asked casually, focusing her attention on her father. He was the only one who didn't look suspect.
"Mr. Sheffield was just telling us," her father began, "about your performance in school last year."

Shannon blinked. Her fingernails dug in deeper. Confusion was etched all across her face. "My performance in school?"

"Er, yes," Mr. Sheffield said. "It seems a bit odd, doesn't it? Talking about it now. But I suppose I've been thinking about it for a while now."

The words came out slowly, almost hesitantly. It made Shannon think he wasn't being entirely truthful. She recalled the way he'd looked when he'd seen the palm of her hand the day before. She'd swear it was connected.

"And, well," Mr. Sheffield continued, looking all around Shannon but not at her, "in truth, I was, and remain, very impressed with the work you put forward last year. That's why I'm here."

Shannon shifted her gaze between the three of them, looking for what she was missing. Her father was impassive while her mother's eyebrows were furrowed, trying to find the answer that was eluding her. Shannon wasn't sure what to say.

"I—thank you, Mr. Sheffield," Shannon stuttered out. "Is—is that all?"

Mr. Sheffield huffed out a laugh. "Oh, no. No, that's not all. I was—I was actually talking to your parents about a sort of opportunity I'd like to offer you."

"What kind of opportunity?" Shannon asked, mystified. This was not what she had been expecting.

"A school, Shannon," Una said softly. "He's offering you a spot at Briargate."

Shannon's eyebrows shot halfway up her forehead. Vaguely, she was aware she was clenching her right fist so hard she'd broken skin. Everyone who grew up in Clearwater knew about Briargate. Practically the only thing the town had to provide a semblance of prestige, Briargate was an imposing private school located on the outskirts of town. It was a goldmine for schoolyard gossip because of its seclusion and unfamiliarity; only a handful of Clearwater youth attended—most students came from out of town—and those that did didn't talk much about it to the other kids. It was an invitation-only school—for the best of the best.

"Briargate?" Shannon said. She felt like a broken record, unable to do anything but repeat what she was being told.

"Yes," Mr. Sheffield said. "Now, it is a bit abnormal for me to be doing this—most students begin at Briargate their fifth grade year. Should you choose to attend, you will be starting a year late, but you're certainly not the first. And your performance this past year has convinced me that you will be perfectly capable of handling this change."

Mr. Sheffield's speech was stiff—unnatural. Almost robotic. If either of Shannon's parents noticed it, though, they didn't let on. Mr. Sheffield still wasn't looking at her; he fixed his gaze instead upon her father.

"It sure is quite an offer, David," Liam said.

"Oh, I know, I know," Mr. Sheffield agreed, nodding vigorously. "I don't need an answer immediately—take some time and think it over with the whole family. The sooner you come to a decision, the better, of course, but that's really my fault." He frowned thoughtfully. "I, er—I put this off perhaps longer than I should have."

He said the last part more to himself than anyone else.

"Do you work at Briargate, Mr. Sheffield?" Shannon asked. His attention snapped to her, jolted, almost as if he had not expected her to speak. He smiled slightly.

"No," he said. "No, not really. I just help find potential students in Clearwater. The work they do at Briargate...it's a little bit beyond my talents."

"Oh, you're too modest, David," Una said immediately. Mr. Sheffield looked pensive; his strange, half-smile remained but he did not offer a response.

"Well, we'll definitely be doing a lot of thinking on this, Dave," Liam said. Mr. Sheffield nodded approvingly.

"Good, good. Let me know your decision as soon as you can; you have my number—it's in the book."

"Of course." Liam nodded and stretched out an arm to shake Mr. Sheffield's hand. Una smiled and nodded at the man. Shannon could do little more than stand and process all she had just heard. Her uneasiness had not abated—if anything, it had grown. There was something gnawing at Mr. Sheffield that was gnawing at her in turn.

"If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask," Mr. Sheffield said as he and Shannon's parents gravitated towards the front door. "If you'd like, I could have the headmistress reach out to you."

"Oh, that'd be wonderful," Liam said. "We'll be in touch."

"Just let me know." Mr. Sheffield looked at Shannon for the first time since she had arrived back home. There was sadness in his eyes. His voice was grave as he said, "It's in your hands."

Involuntarily, Shannon shuddered.

Mr. Sheffield and her parents exchanged their goodbyes as Shannon stood fixed to the spot. Her palm ached. Mr. Sheffield did not look her way again as he made his exit, but she watched him the whole time, trying to read him. She wondered what had been said before she'd arrived; she wondered if Briargate truly was all Mr. Sheffield had come to discuss.

Shannon's parents' eyes were on each other as soon as Mr. Sheffield walked out the door. Interlocked in another one of their infamous wordless conversations, they seemed to barely remember Shannon was still in the room with them. Finally, Liam gave a short, curt nod, and Una turned to her daughter.

"Dear, would you mind going upstairs to your room for a moment?" she asked, though it was obvious she left no room for refusal. "Your father and I would like to discuss some things alone."

Shannon barely offered a nod in answer, heading for the stairs immediately, knowing she had no other choice. She would much rather have stayed to hear what her parents had to say, to see what they thought of the whole thing and to ascertain if a possible school was all that concerned them. No chance—she was wanted elsewhere.

Shannon found Faye in their bedroom, lying on her bed scribbling in a notebook. Faye had mountains of notebooks, most of them completely full of doodles and drawings of buildings, animals, and people. She'd always had a knack for artistry, something Shannon had never been able to get the hang of. The bitterness that had accompanied that knowledge had subsided in the recent years, and Shannon's lack of artistic talent was now used as more of a private joke between the sisters. On this day, Shannon could make out the beginning of what looked like a cat, Faye's favorite animal and therefore favorite muse.

"Looks nice," Shannon said, lifting Faye's feet to sit underneath them. Faye glanced over her shoulder and shrugged modestly.

"Can't get the eyes right," she said, looking back and appraising her work. "They're not—feline enough."

Shannon took a longer look, noting the many erase marks around the eyes. "They look okay to me."

Faye waved her hand dismissively, setting her pencil down and sitting up. "It's hard to work from memory. Much easier to have something to look at as a guide. So I don't have to remember all the little details."

"So you haven't convinced Mom and Dad to get a cat?" Shannon teased lightly. "Just for reference purposes, of course."

"No," Faye said, shaking her head mournfully. Shannon laughed. Faye took a moment to regard her drawing once more before closing the notebook almost reverently. Primly, she folded her hands in her lap and looked at Shannon queerly. For a moment, Shannon was able to see a glimpse of the woman Faye would one day become: smart, proud, and kind, with a loveliness that was effortless.

"And did Mr. Sheffield come to discuss Briargate?" Faye asked without any hesitation, taking Shannon by surprise.

"How did you know that?" Shannon asked, a faint note of awe creeping into her tone, as if Faye had just pulled off a particularly difficult magic trick. Faye smiled conspiratorially, obviously pleased.

"Seemed likely," Faye replied. "Cassie told me a couple years ago that he was the one that delivered the news. I heard him say that he wanted to talk about you and figured there wasn't much else that he could have been here to do."

Shannon eyed her doubtfully. "You eavesdropped from the hallway, didn't you?"

"I can't believe you'd even think that."

Shannon smirked, nudging Faye with her shoulder playfully. In fairness, Shannon figured that there had been a little bit of both—deduction mixed with what Faye heard outright. Cassie Austin was a good friend of Faye's and a student at Briargate—the closest link any of the Malone children had to the school. It stood to reason that Mr. Sheffield had visited her as well two years ago, told her Briargate was expecting her.

"Seems a bit late, though, doesn't it?" Faye said. "And isn't it usually fifth graders that go?"

Shannon tossed up one of her shoulders. "He said he was confident in my abilities. Or something like that."

Faye laughed, nudging Shannon back. She looked at Shannon sideways and smiled slyly. "I see. You're special."

"Or something like that."

Shannon wasn't sure of what else to say. Faye was joking, but even so, Shannon didn't think she was particularly special. She was smart—she'd concede that much—but not so much she stood out. At least, she'd never thought so. She wouldn't have thought her intelligence warranted a spot at Briargate; she could think of plenty of people at her public school that seemed much better suited for it. Even Faye, not just book smart, but clever and creative as well, seemed a better pick. An ulterior motive was practically guaranteed, though Shannon couldn't reason out what it would be.

The smile Faye had been sporting slid slowly off her lips as Shannon was lost in her thoughts. Her gaze was fixed, boring a hole into a book that sat on the foot of Shannon's bed. Her own thoughts at that moment differed greatly from her younger sister's, but neither could have guessed just how greatly they aligned.

"Did you buy that at the library?" Faye asked, nodding at her target. The old dust jacket gave it away, the covering stamped with the telltale red discard sticker. Shannon nodded even though Faye already knew the answer.

"That was the last time I saw Sarah," Shannon said quietly, like it was a secret. "She was at the reception desk. I bought it from her."

It had been just two days before Sarah's body was found, just inches from the spot Shannon herself had stood as she made her purchase. Sarah had stopped to talk to Shannon for a short time, nothing serious, just run-of-the-mill chatter. She'd seemed to be the same as she'd always been: cheerful, sweet, and unbothered. Two days later she was dead.

"I hadn't seen her in weeks," Faye said. "I mean, not really. I'd seen her around next door of course, but I hadn't talked to her or anything like that. I can't believe..."

What it was that Faye could not believe—that Sarah was dead, that she hadn't spoken to Sarah in weeks, that she'd only seen Sarah in passing next door—was left unsaid. Faye worried at her lower lip, nervously playing with her fingers. Twice she opened her mouth, barely a fraction of an inch, trying to articulate what was rushing through her mind.

"Do you think there's something bad here?" she said finally.

"What do you mean?" Shannon asked evenly, willing her face to stay neutral. It was of little consequence; Faye was not even looking at her. Her older sister was still considering the book—Alice's Adventures in Wonderland—on Shannon's bed.

"I just mean," Faye began, weighing each word on her tongue carefully, "that whatever happened to Sarah...do you maybe think it was bigger than just Sarah?"

"That's funny," Shannon said. "Toni said almost the exact same thing last night."

Faye shrugged. She looked down to her anxious hands. Quietly, she said, "Just thinking out loud."

Shannon had no words for her, but she had plenty to say in her thoughts.

Do you think there's something bad here?

"Shannon?"

Shannon nearly jumped at the sound of her mother's voice carrying from downstairs. She'd almost forgotten her parents were still discussing what they'd heard from Mr. Sheffield. She padded out into the hallway with a kind of trepidation, uncertain of what was to come.

"Could you come down here for a moment, dear? Your father and I would like to talk to you."

***I would like to thank everyone who read and voted, particularly the lovely @SunlitAurora for being so kind as to leave comments with thoughts and advice.***