Melody leaned against the russet brick wall, guitar strap pulling down on her right shoulder. It had started to hurt after several hours out by the old Hyperion Theater. The open guitar case in front of her had a sizable number of green bills and even more coins, gifts from passersby who she hoped she had touched in some way with her music.

Now the air was still. Melody had halted her playing in favor of resting her fingers, voice, and back. The people of Seattle continued on their way past, up sidewalks and across streets. She had faded into the brick wall. Not that she minded.

From the background, she could observe. And at the moment, she was watching as the ever-present but rarely noticed Tilly walked down the opposite side of the street. She had her green backpack on, like always, and her blonde hair seemed a bit more matted than usual. She wondered what Weaver had the girl doing that day.

Melody didn't know Tilly well, but she knew enough. Tilly was younger, but not any more naive than Melody herself. The girl lived on her own. Melody had never seen her hideout, but she had a feeling the girl lived off the streets as she didn't seem to work a job other than selling contraband down by the Troll. As the young woman pushed between pedestrians, Melody couldn't help but shake her head at the way she slipped her hands into pockets and pulled out wallets and other valuables.

The girl was going to get herself into trouble. Melody ran her hand along the neck of her guitar, feeling the wire strings beneath her fingertips. She closed her eyes for a moment. A breeze blew her brown hair out of her face. The coolness soothed her, and for a brief moment, she thought she smelled the sea.

Her eyes flickered open. She paused. Pushing off the wall, Melody watched as a few more pedestrians made their way past her, barely glancing her way. She knelt down, gathering up the money she'd made and sticking it in her bag. With her guitar packed away, she glanced at her watch.

She nearly choked on a gust of wind. It was almost five. She had to be at work in twenty minutes. Throwing her backpack over her shoulders and keeping the guitar case close to her body, she rushed off down the street. Roni's was about a twenty-minute walk from the central square. She'd be cutting it close.

"Excuse me," she murmured, pushing past a group of teenagers. "Pardon me."

They never parted for her. No one did. Melody was used to blending into the background when not playing her music but sometimes it got on her nerves, like the way she got an elbow to the arm as she tried to walk through them. She gritted her teeth.

She had her journal, she had her guitar. She didn't need anything else. But sometimes she wanted it. Sometimes she missed her dreams, the inspiring vistas that she'd wanted to see by traveling the world. Instead, fear held her trapped in Hyperion Heights.

The sky had turned a beautiful pink and dark blue by the time Melody rushed up to the door to Roni's. The bell rang as she hurried inside, struggling between her backpack and guitar case. She grunted, then glanced up. Roni stood in front of the bar chatting with Sabine. They both turned to look at her.

"Sorry," she muttered. "I lost track of time."

"Go grab your apron, Melody. You've got three minutes," Roni said. She smiled, then shook her head. "Might as well play tonight."

Melody couldn't help but grin. She pushed through the few other patrons, heading into the back room. In a mad dash, she stashed away the guitar and backpack and threw on her black apron and name tag. Wiping away a bit of sweat from her brow, she hurried out onto the floor.

"I gotta head out," Sabine said to Roni. Then she turned to Melody. "How are you, girl?"

"Well, it's going." Melody let out a small laugh. "It's going."

Sabine nodded. "Sounds about right. I'll catch you two later. I've gotta meet Jacinda at home when Lucy's ballet recital is done. Which is in about ten minutes," she added, glancing at her watch.

Melody watched as the woman's dark, curly hair bounced around her shoulders as she hurried out the door. Seemed like everyone was late today. She leaned against the bar, taking a drink of the ice water that Roni deposited in front of her. "Thanks."

"How much money did you bring in today?" Roni asked.

"Fifty-three dollars," Melody said. She smirked. "More than my personal best last week." She turned to face the bar head-on, pushing off the stool she'd been leaning against. "The Theater's a good spot."

"Well, so long as it doesn't interrupt your time here, I wish you only the best." Roni pointed towards the door as the bell dinged.

With a tiny salute, Melody rushed over to start taking orders. The bar had become remarkably busy in recent days. Word of the way Roni stood up to Belfrey had spread even just over the last day. Seeing to a couple at a high table, she got their orders and then hurried to give them to Remy in the back.

Melody didn't mind the work. She preferred street performing to waiting tables, but at least she got to work with people. Short interactions that didn't require huge commitment were almost as good as just being one with her guitar on a street corner. Better, certainly, than having to be in something like sales. She wasn't sure how she could've handled anything that social. Tending bar was as far as she was willing to go in that direction.

As she carried out the basket of onion rings for her table, depositing them between the couple's beers, she just offered them a smile and a few words. The bell rang. She looked over, smiling as she saw Henry trailing behind several other men and women in white dress shirts. The catering crew. Sabine and Jacinda had joined Henry there that afternoon.

But as Henry made his way to the bar, she frowned. A dark bruise had formed under his right eye just over his cheekbone. As he sat down at the bar, Melody hurried over.

"What happened to you?" she asked.

Roni joined them. She raised her eyebrows. "Want some ice, kid?" When he groaned out a yes please, she disappeared into the back to get a cloth.

"Want a drink?" Melody filled in for Roni behind the bar. She looked closer at Henry. "Who did that?"

"Detective Weaver." And then he nodded. "And yeah, gimme a beer."

Melody grimaced as she grabbed a beer and popped off the cap. She placed it in front of him just as Roni came back. "I gotta wait tables, but we'll chat later."

She had to get back to work, with Roni back to tending bar. The couple at the table were eyeing her, likely looking for a refill or two. One of her coworkers would be in soon to relieve her so she could set up the guitar, but until then, it was tables for her.

It took another three hours for Roni to give her the all-clear to stop waitressing. With Colette and Emile there at last, and the dinner rush gone, she made her way to the back room. Melody fiddled with her apron ties as she stood in front of the cubbies where she'd stashed her bag. The gentle murmur of the bar sounded like a background track. She started to hum. Maybe she'd play some Nirvana. Everyone loved hearing tributes to the Seattle Grunge era.

When she walked out into the bar with her guitar, only the catering crew remained. Henry sat at the bar, Jacinda gone but to her delight, Detective Rogers had shown up. Roni beckoned her over with a jerk of her head. She joined her behind the bar, smile dropping as she saw the seriousness on all their faces.

"I have a feeling that all of our problems all have the same name." Rogers glanced at Henry first, then Melody, then Roni. He nodded once. "And that name is Victoria Belfrey."

Melody let out a small huff, pouring herself a shot of the bourbon Roni had just put away. She could've told them that.

"So what are you thinking Detective?" Roni asked. She put a hand on her hip.

"I'm thinking she's dirty in a way we don't understand yet," Rogers said. "And now that I'm a detective, I can dig into things I never could before. Maybe find out what it is she's up to." He turned to Roni. "And if maybe someone could point me in the direction of people who are being squeezed by her." Then he turned to Melody. "If I had an extra pair of eyes on the streets." And finally, he turned to Henry. "And if somebody could write about it, and release it when it's ready. If we do this, then maybe someday... I can find that missing girl."

Henry started to smile. "Huh. Sounds like there's enough for a book."

Rogers let out the tiniest huff of a laugh. "Maybe two."

"A regular old rebel alliance," Melody joked.

With a grin, Rogers nodded at her. Then he turned to Roni. "You in?"

"Oh yeah," Roni said. Then she pointed to him. "Are you ready?"

"Aye," he said. "Let's get to work."

He lifted his glass, and Melody did the same. They all clinked drinks, downing their alcohol to seal the deal. Conspirators, rebels it was to be. Melody felt a rush of excitement, the thrill of knowing she could potentially go against Belfrey. She couldn't stop the grin from spreading on her face as she finished her shot.

"You're excited," Henry said, his own small smile growing as he watched her.

Melody just shrugged. "Listen, any opportunity to frustrate that woman is an opportunity I will enjoy taking. She already made me lose one job."

"Yeah but then you got to end up here," Roni teased. "Or am I not a fabulous boss?"

With a laugh, she nodded. "Don't worry Roni. You're the best. Now, speaking of being the best boss, I'm going to go play unless we've got more conspiring to do."

Rogers let out a small laugh as well. "I'd rather hear you play, I think."

Melody grinned. "Great. Any requests?" She moved out from behind the bar and over to the fireplace, sitting down on the brick step. "I was thinking of some Nirvana. As a tribute to our lovely city."

As he settled into a chair, leaving Roni and Henry at the bar, he shrugged. "You pick."

Running her hand over the strings, she began to pluck at them absentmindedly. Nirvana it would be, then, but which to start with. As the patrons of the bar turned to watch her, she decided to just go with the classic. A guitar instrumental of Smells Like Teen Spirit filled the room and then she added her vocals.

As with every time she played, the room faded away. Melody let the music surround her, entrance her. She let it consume her entire being until it was just her and the harmonies. She didn't notice Henry had left until after her sixth Nirvana song ended and she took a drink of water. The silence lingered as Rogers gave her a small, quiet clap.

"Why thank you," she joked. "I do my best."

She glanced at the clock. Her shift was ending in about ten minutes. "I better pack up," she said. Stretching, she yawned out the rest of her sentence. "I still have to walk home."

He looked at her in concern. "By yourself?"

"It's cheaper than taking a Swyft," she told him. Melody stood up off the fireplace, stretching her aching legs. She usually did her playing standing up and somehow doing it seated had hurt more.

Rogers followed her over to the door to the backroom. "Hyperion Heights is hardly the safest place, love."

Melody snorted out a small laugh. She just shrugged. "Listen I don't make much money as it is. I can't spend it on rideshares when I don't need it. I'm not that far of a walk from here. About twenty minutes." She clocked out at the small tablet Roni kept for timesheets. When she'd packed up her guitar and walked into the nearly empty bar, she found him still waiting for her.

"It's not safe to go by yourself," he objected again. He hesitated.

Melody remembered what he'd said about the missing girl. Suddenly it wasn't funny to her anymore. She moved over to him, adjusting the strap of her guitar case. "I'd appreciate the company."

After bidding a smirking Roni goodnight, she ducked out of the bar into the cold. Melody fastened her jacket tighter and pulled her grey beanie down over her ears. Rogers joined her, offering to take her backpack. She handed it over with a smile and a thank you. All she had to worry about was her guitar.

"If you're going to be walking, you should make sure you know how to defend yourself," Rogers told her.

They came to the street corner. Red light flooded the ground around their feet. He looked at her, not smiling at all.

She nodded. "I can throw a good punch." But she moved the conversation away from herself, knowing full well his anxiety came from the missing girl case he'd left unsolved for a decade. "You really think digging into Belfrey can help you solve your case?"

Rogers frowned. He glanced away as the crosswalk turned white and they started forward. But he finally shrugged. "I don't know. But I do know that Belfrey's dirty. She tried to have me frame Henry today."

Melody glanced over at him in surprise. "What?"

"That's how he got the bruise," Rogers said. "Weaver hit him." He hesitated. Melody didn't interrupt, letting him say more when he was ready. "I almost did it. I was so desperate to keep my job."

"So you could dig into the Eloise Gardener case?" Melody guessed.

He nodded. "Aye."

"But hey," she said, touching his arm, "you didn't frame him."

"That is worth something, I suppose," he muttered.

Melody let out a small laugh. "Rogers, that's worth everything."

She let the silence linger as they strolled down the dark streets, only car headlights and the red, yellow, and green of streetlights casting shadows around them. A chill wind whipped them from behind, blowing her hair every which way. But she finally broke the silence again.

"You seem awfully trusting of me, Rogers," she said. Melody turned to him, and he to her, and she offered a small smile. "I'm flattered."

"Well." He smirked and then shrugged her bag higher onto his arm. "Bartenders are like therapists, I thought."

Melody couldn't help but laugh as he quoted her own line back at her. It was true. People said all sorts of things to her when she was tending the bar. Flattering, really. But it was even more flattering to have that trust extend beyond the bar area. "True. And the only thing I enjoy more than giving out free therapy is writing poetry."

Rogers shook his head as well. Just a couple more minutes of walking and they'd be at her apartment complex. She yawned, coughing a bit against the cold air that filled her lungs. She was exhausted. She'd been up for hours and worked most of the day between the street performing and the waitressing. Relief flooded her entire body to see the bricks and rusting iron of her complex.

"Tell you what, I feel a bit bad taking free therapy," Rogers told her. He smiled, handing the bag to her out front as they stood on the sidewalk. "How's a drink as payment."

Her grin spread. Melody looked at him there, face almost glowing in the warm light of a streetlamp. She nodded. "I'll always take free alcohol." As he smiled, she thanked him. "And now I owe you a drink as well, for walking me home."

"Don't mention it," he said. "It's my job."

"You're not a cop anymore Rogers," she reminded him.

He shook his head. "No, love, I'm a detective. And no one else is going missing on my watch."

Melody smiled at him and gave a small nod. After bidding him goodnight, she made her way inside. The stairwell offered no relief from the cold but she found some once she hauled her guitar up to the third floor and into her apartment. Her keys went on the counter, her guitar case next to the small wooden TV stand. Then she went to the window. She could see down into the street and just caught sight of Rogers fading into the darkness. Melody smiled.