The address on Nina's phone matched the place she stood before at that moment. Still, Nina could hardly picture Fearnley living in the rundown building where she'd just arrived. He'd seemed like a neat, nearly timid man when she'd spoken to him in prison. Then again, there was much she didn't know about the man.

Appearances could be deceiving. That was one of the many things her profession had taught her over the years.

With that in mind, Nina walked into the building with no one to question her. The inside was marginally better than the outside. There was no peeling paint on the walls or badly drawn graffiti. Just plain off-white walls and cheap linoleum on the halls. The place had an old feeling. It made Nina think of the place where she'd lived when she was very young.

Back when she was no more than three and her parents were still getting used to their new life of being married with a child. They'd shared a small apartment on top of a shop—a beauty salon, she thought it was—with a threadbare carpet and a similar type of cheap linoleum as the one in Fearnley's building making up the kitchen floor. It was small, nearly cramped, but Nina had some good memories there. Back then, life had been simpler and her parents had been happy. Back then, she'd had her mother.

Nina tried not to dwell on that as she climbed the stairs, wary as the steps creaked with each one of the steps she took. It was cold inside the building, nearly as cold as it was outside and Nina found herself pulling her coat closer around her.

Fearnley lived on the top floor—the third one—and Nina made it there without running into so much as another soul. For a second, she found herself questioning whether anyone else even lived in that building, but she knew they did, had heard the faint sounds of people talking from behind closed doors. Even as she reached the third floor, Nina thought she heard people arguing somewhere in the building and told herself it was just a television set too loudly.

Nina tried to focus on what she was there to do, especially once she took that first step down the hall and felt as if the walls were closing in around her. For a brief moment, she thought she could smell jasmine and spice, thought she could hear a piano playing nearby and feel chestnut hair slipping over her shoulder.

The end of the hall grew closer and closer, the clacking of Nina's steps too loud for her own ears. A mirror waited at the end, Nina just knew.

And then, she was standing before a black door with a number in peeling gold letters on it. No green eyes stared back at her and Nina almost felt silly for having thought they would. The relief she felt seemed like a tidal wave washing over her, leaving only the cold realization of just how deeply Alice's memories seemed to have invaded her mind. She shook those thoughts out of her mind, at least for as long as she could, and attempted to stay in the moment.

With one last look around her to make sure no one was watching her, Nina got to work.

Maybe she should have felt guiltier than she did for what she was about to do, or maybe she should have known it was wrong and given up even before she'd shown up to that old apartment building. Still, she told herself it was important, that it was the only reason she was there. She told herself that for as long as it took to pick the scratched up lock of Fearnley's door.

The short time the task took felt like hours. Every sound was amplified, ever whisper of wind seeming like the breath of some nearby observer. Nina's paranoia worked against her, the nerves making her already inexperienced hands shake, but she managed it.

The door opened with a soft click and Nina hurried inside.

As soon as she entered, she noticed the staleness in the air and the dust clearly visible as it floated across the rays of sunlight filtering through the windows. A coffee table in the living room—a battered old thing that looked just about ready to collapse—had a book on it. When she approached, Nina could see that the pages were yellowed with age and the spine of it was creased from use. There was a thin layer of dust on the cover, not quite thick enough to hide the title.

Something in Nina twinged in sympathy when she realized it was a photo album. With great care and a gloved hand, Nina opened the book and saw a picture of a smiling woman in a wedding gown. Fearnley stood by her side, arm wound around her waist and face looking brighter, younger—more alive.

Sarah, Nina remembered. His ex wife's name is Sarah. That was something that had only been mentioned once in all the articles Nina had read.

Fearnley must have taken one last look at the book—at all the memories he'd made and the life that had come crumbling down—before turning himself in. The thought made Nina's chest tighten and her previous beliefs on the type of man Fearnley was to solidify. For all that he had admitted to the crime, Fearnley seemed to have valued the simpler times. Enough so that tossing his connections aside seemed like a waste

Nina closed the book and walked away to inspect the rest of the place.

The kitchen was much the same as the living room. It was a small room, just large enough for a stove, a refrigerator, a bit of counter space, and a table just big enough for two. A single chair was neatly tucked in, seeming to wait for someone to occupy it. Nina wondered how long it would be until someone would do so.

Nina didn't find much in the kitchen, not that she expected to. She took only a minute to take in the small room before turning back to the doorway. Before she could walk out, however, something caught her eye.

Hanging on the wall between the counter and stove was a calendar. It was the type often given out by businesses at the start of the year, a different landscape for every month. November showed a lake surrounded by trees painted in warm tones that had Nina thinking of a forest in a painting. She shook the thought out of her head before it could lead her further away from the moment and instead walked over to the calendar.

There were a couple of days with Fearnley's messy scribble filling the small squares with everyday events. Nothing stood out to Nina as she read the cramped writing all about appointments and reminders Fearnley needed to keep track of—dentist's appointments, a meeting at work, someone's birthday—Katie, it said. Nina would need to figure out who that was.

His ex wife's name is Sarah, she reminded herself, and wondered if maybe he was seeing someone.

Nina found herself frowning as she reached up to turn the page back to the month of October. Again, there was not much that stood out when Nina went through the few reminders written there before turning back to September. Again, not much was found. Not until she got to the 20th.

Her eyes remained fixed on the date as some part of her mind helped her to connect the dots. After a second of simply standing there—time Nina didn't truly have—she pulled out her phone and opened up the notes she'd taken during her investigation of Alice had started.

"September 19th," she muttered to herself, realization dawning on her. Nina looked back up at the calendar. "September 20th, appointment at SEIN."

On that day, Fearnley had walked into the research center where Alice worked—had probably heard what happened to her and walked past a crime scene. Just one day earlier, he had killed Alice.

Nina let that thought sink in before walking back to the front door. She'd learned enough and had already been in the apartment for longer than she would have liked. Taking care to not be seen, Nina walked out. It was just a second after the door shut behind her that the one next door creaked open. The sound was enough to nearly make Nina jump, her phone close to slipping out of her hand. When Nina got a look at the woman who'd walked out she nearly laughed at herself.

She was a small woman with dark hair that was already streaked with silver. The woman was probably somewhere around sixty, if Nina had to guess, and had a lined, rounded face. When she spotted Nina, she seemed surprised. It occurred to Nina that she would of course stand out to someone who had lived in the building long enough.

"Oh, hello," the woman greeted. "Are you new here? I don't think I've seen you before."

Nina was smart enough to tell that the woman was vaguely suspicious. She didn't mind. It was, after all, a reasonable response. Especially given that the man who'd lived right next to her had been arrested for murder.

"No, I'm just visiting a friend," Nina said, doing her best to sound casual—to sound like she belonged."Was just about to leave, actually."

The woman seemed to ease up just the slightest bit at that, and Nina wondered if she might be able to get something out of her. She lived next door from Fearnley, there was a good chance she knew something.

"Do you need help with that?" Nina asked, motioning to the large trash bag the woman had set down when she'd spotted Nina.

"Oh, no, it's fine. I wouldn't want to bother you," the woman said. She appeared more flustered, distracted from her previous suspicions.

"I don't mind. We're both heading out anyway," Nina insisted with the smile that usually served well to charm people. She reached over for the bag, the woman helping her pick it up. Nina waited for the woman to lock up and had her lead the way down the stairs.

She moved slowly, careful not to slip and gripping the handrail tightly. It reminded Nina of the overly cautious way her mother used to climb up and down the stairs of their home. Of the way Nina would hold her hand and her mother would smile down at her.

"I wish they'd fix the elevator already." The woman's voice snapped Nina back to the moment at hand. "Feels like it's been broken forever and all these stairs are hard on an old woman's knees," she went on with some humor lacing her complaints.

"Has it been out of order for long?" Nina asked, welcoming the chance to hold a conversation.

"'Bout a couple of months." They reached the second floor landing and Nina knew she had to hurry and get something about Fearnley before they stepped out of the building. "You'd think they'd get to fixing it by now, but then they hardly fix anything around here. But then the rent's so cheap. It's no wonder you get all sorts around here now a days."

"Is there a lot of crime around here?" Nina asked, curious. She knew the area had been a nice one before, but as with most cities, time had changed that.

"More than we used to get, though it's not so bad most of the time," the woman said. The first floor was within sight.

"My friend was just telling me someone from the building was arrested." Nina held her breath, waiting to see if the woman would revert to being suspicious, or if she would tell Nina what she needed.

"That'd be Mr. Fearnley." This time there was something in the woman's voice that told Nina she was familiar with the man, that maybe she knew something. "Just got arrested last month. Turned himself in, from what I hear."

"Fearnley? That name sounds familiar," Nina did her best to make it sound like she genuinely didn't know who Fearnley was. The doorway was just a few steps away.

"Oh, he's been all over the news. Killed that poor doctor, they say."

"I remember now. I haven't paid much attention to the news, but I remember hearing about that. Did he really?" Nina opened the door, the weak light filtering through grey clouds seemed blinding after spending so long inside the dimly lit building, and let the older woman walk out before her.

"Said he did. Honestly, it's hard to believe he would do something like that. Always seemed like a nice man."

"You knew him?" The woman smiled at Nina's question and stopped at the foot of the short series of steps outside.

"Lived next door to him for years. Sometimes he would help me fix things—little things—but it was more than what the landlord would bother with."

"He sounds nice," Nina's voice came out sounding just slightly softer than before, something she couldn't help as she remembered the man she'd talked to in prison and the book sitting on top of the coffee table inside of Fearnley's apartment.

"He was. Kept to himself most of the time, but I'd run into him all the time when he went to work. We'd chat sometimes, even after he came back from the hospital. Wasn't the same then, but he was still a nice man."

"What do you mean he wasn't the same." Nina cursed herself after asking that, thinking that perhaps she'd sounded a tad too desperate for an answer. The woman seemed not to have noticed. Maybe she just liked having someone to talk to.

"A lot of things happened to him, the kind of things that can change someone. Sometimes he looked sick to me, but I figured he was just on the mend after being in the hospital. He had an accident, you see. Still, hard to believe he could hurt anyone."

Nina knew what she meant. Maybe that was why she asked her next question.

"Do you believe he did it?"

The woman hesitated, her smile wavering and hands clutching her coat closer to her. Around them, the cold wind swirled, plucking the last remaining leaves from the tattered looking trees planted along the sidewalk.

"I don't know," she finally said, uncertain. She glanced back at the building they'd just exited before continuing. "To be honest, I don't think it was him."

Nina could hear her heart pounding in her ears and the world around her seemed to close off as the older woman in front of her became her only focus.

"Why do you say that?" Again, it took the woman a moment to gather her thoughts—or enough courage to speak.

"Well, you see, the walls are thin and because of the way the apartments are set up, I can always tell when he's leaving." She paused, looking sheepish at having admitted that she would—however unintentionally—pry into what her neighbors were doing. "That day they say he, well, you know, he got home from work same as always. I remember I was standing outside my door talking to Mrs. Gonzales from down the hall, and then he walked over—must have been getting back from work—soaked to the bone from the rain that day. We greeted each other like we always do and he went inside his apartment. Then, he didn't go back out again."

"And you're sure about that?"

The woman nodded. "I could hear the tv going next door. Didn't go to sleep until late because this knee of mine was hurting so bad and I know Mr. Fearnley didn't leave 'til the next day. Saw him leaving for work. Didn't look any different then."

For a second, Nina wasn't sure what to say to that. To hear that Fearnley could be innocent—that it was, in fact, a very real possibility—only raised more questions for Nina.

"You didn't tell anyone about that?" Nina asked, sounding more curious as to why that was than accusing.

"He confessed," the woman said with a shrug. "At the time I didn't think about it much. Probably because of the shock of it all. Now I think I should have said something." There was regret, deep and clear in the woman's eyes. Nina could understand, and at the same time wondered how someone could keep quiet.

Nina left the woman after that, with her thanking Nina for the help. She smiled, but Nina could see there was just the slightest bit of strain in it. There was guilt too, and Nina regretted having brought that feeling up.

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Hey everyone! New chapter before updates slow a bit starting next week, haha. Hope you've all liked it and thanks to those of you reading. As always, please comment and/or vote if you can, I'd love to see your opinions. Have a great day!