Marc sets up his laptop on the long dining table, which appears to be far too large for the narrow room. He pulls open the screen and runs his fingers across the touchpad, waiting on the computer to boot.

Standing in front of the dining room window, Millie lifts the thick curtain with her finger to peek out at the street that crosses in front of her house. Alongside the curb, she can see Deputy Bennett sitting in his squad car. He types a message on his phone before tossing it into the glove compartment. Looking around the neighborhood, he props his arm up along the rolled-down window as he scans the street. Suddenly, his head quickly turns to face her house and she quickly pulls her hand away, allowing the curtain to drop back to its normal position.

Unsure whether or not he caught her looking, she shrugs it off as she turns to face Marc and leans her arms on the tabletop. "So did you ask her?"

"No." Marc says, not taking his eyes off of the laptop screen just as it lights up. By moving his finger, he drags the cursor over to scroll through his documents.

Expecting a more elaborate answer, she stares at him. "Why not?"

Sighing, his eyes flick over to her. His tone is annoyed, but more at the situation and not so much directed toward her. "What am I supposed to say? Hey, I'm suspect that you and your friends killed a kid and left another person to die. Is that true?"

A frown settles into her cheeks as she straightens her position. "Well you don't have to say it like that."

"Millie, I may be a writer but I can't think of a nice way to word it." He focused his attention back to the computer. "But if you can think of something better, then by all means..."

Noticing that he is far more bitter than usual, she gets a vibe that something more must have happened earlier with Taylor. He just told her that they 'reconnected' and left it at that. But she knows, if that were the case, he would be lit up with joy right now. There's something he is not telling her.

Marc double clicks on a folder, a prompt popping up for him to enter in his password. He quickly types a complex mixture of numbers and letters—something that he created that no one can guess. It's amazing that he is able to remember it.

"Did something happen?" An inquisitive Millie continues to peer at him.

He shakes his head, answering instantly. "Nope."

"Are you sure?"

"Okay, fine." He sighs, knowing that she has a talent of being able to easily break him. Lowering his laptop screen, he makes sure not to shut it as he looks across the table at Millie. Waiting for him to continue, she looks at him blankly as he attempts to gather his thoughts. Again, he can't seem to find a proper way to word his thoughts so he just lets it out. "We had sex."

Looking away, Millie throws her arms up. "Okay, never mind. TMI. Sorry I asked."

"And it was great." He continues, apparently not sensing the discomfort she feels in the conversation. "But afterwards, in the morning, she was acting really strange. Like she knew."

"Knew what?"

"Knew that I knew."

"But you don't know."

"I know." He looks aside, the wordplay strangely not confusing either of them. Reaching into his messenger bag, he pulls out a lime green folder. He sets it on the table and slides it over to Millie. "But I think she saw this."

Hesitant, she looks at the folder before reaching for it. For a moment she thinks, or hopes rather, that it is empty and Marc is just messing with her. However, judging by his tone, she can tell that he is dead serious. Her fingers brush against the tip of the folder before pulling it closer to her. Slowly, she plucks at the folder's upper edge and pries it open.

Her eyes suddenly widen as she stares down at the open folder in her hands. She peers up at Marc in disbelief, beyond startled by the contents. "What is this?"

Before he can answer, she flips the folder upside down—about a dozen or so photographs spilling out onto the table. The same photos that baffled Taylor earlier are now scattered across the dining table.

"I just wanted to know the truth." He says, justifying his actions as he watches her spread the images out on the table as she starts to examine each one. "There's more to this story. I know it."

"Story? This isn't another school article, Marc. These are people's lives. Our friend's lives." She shakes her head, trying to resist the urge of going through the remainder of the pictures. "This is an invasion of privacy!"

Feeling guilty, Millie gathers the photos to put them back in the folder. She freezes, becoming even more unsettled as she comes across the picture of Taylor and Morgan in the car. They were both clearly unaware that they were being watched.

"She's hiding something." Marc says, staring at her as she lifts the photo to get a better look at it.

Tossing the picture back down onto the pile, Millie gathers the remainder of the images and shoves them back inside the sleeve on the left side of the folder. She flips the folder closed, cupping her hands together as she rests them on top of it. "And so are you."

"That wasn't my intention! I was just there taking pictures." He pauses, reminiscing on the night of Cesar's death. "Then I spotted Morgan's car across the street. And I saw them..."

Millie stares down at the folder, thinking of a reason—any reason—for why they would have been out there that night. "Yeah, but Cesar was their friend. They probably just wanted to know what happened to him."

"Yeah, well so do I." Marc replies, and she can tell that he is referring to the night of the bus accident and by him he really means Garrett. He sits up attentively. "There's more to that night, Millie. There's no way Garrett could, or would, hijack that bus alone."

He has a point and she knows it. Although neither of them really had the opportunity to ever talk to Garrett, they worked on an article after the accident discussing his state in the hospital. It was something to boost morale in the school and to get his name out in a positive light, hopefully to paint a new perception of him. But then, due to the fact that everybody in town despised Garrett, the principal forced them to pull the article out of the newspaper and scrap it. He wanted no spotlight whatsoever on Garrett, as he felt it would taint the school's reputation.

Garrett was nothing more than the town's villain, and everybody wanted to see him pay for what he supposedly did. As if being permanently disfigured and scarred for life wasn't enough.

At this point, Millie doesn't know how to respond. She can relate to him in a sense that she, too, suspects that Garrett wasn't alone that night. But she wouldn't go to such deceiving lengths to find out based on one simple assumption.

Her mouth opens but, before she can respond, she is interrupted by a sudden knock at the front door. She pushes the folder to him, still shaking her head in disappointment as she turns around to walk toward the hallway.

Marc peers down at the folder, not needing her to tell him that what he did was wrong. But, deep down, he can't shake the feeling that he is only doing what he feels is necessary. This town has too many secrets and every day they continue to pile up. If Taylor is somehow involved in the accident, and maybe even these murders, he needs to know the truth in order to help her.

Figuring it's probably Bennett checking up on them, especially after he probably caught her ogling at him through the window, Millie reaches the door and immediately unlocks both of deadbolts. She reaches over to punch the code in on the alarm panel before twisting the door handle, pulling it open. Her jaw nearly drops at the surprising sight of Taylor standing on her porch.

"Taylor?" She says, not noticing how shocked her tone must sound. "Hi..."

"Hey." Taylor smiles, although it's obvious that she's faking it. Millie can tell by the look in her eyes that she is beyond stressed, dozens of thoughts weighing heavy on her mind. "How are you?"

"I'm good." Millie stutters nervously, as if running into an ex. Caught off guard, she wasn't expecting to see Taylor—especially at her house out of all places. "How are you?"

"Good." Taylor replies, silence quickly overcoming her as she isn't quite sure of what to say. She has put herself in enough vulnerable positions today. Glancing behind her, she signals with a cock of her head at the police car parked in front of the house. "What's up with the babysitter?"

Following her stare, Millie sighs. "You know how paranoid my dad can get."

Nodding, Taylor's eyes awkwardly gaze past Millie to peek inside the house. "Yeah. Hey, I'm actually here to see Marc. I dropped by his house and his mom said he was here."

"Oh." Disappointment settles into her voice as she realizes the true reason behind Taylor's visit. Hesitating, she isn't sure whether or not to invite her inside as it may make the situation even more unsettling. She smiles. "Of course. Umm, let me go get him."

Smiling back, Taylor shifts her position as she feels uneasy as well. "Thank you."

Quickly turning around, Millie leaves the door open as she walks down the hallway and into the dining room. "It's for you." She says with discontent as she passes Marc, who has already stood up at the slightest sound of Taylor's familiar voice.

He hurriedly approaches the open door, his eyes immediately locking onto Taylor's as he steps out onto the porch. "Hi."

"Can we talk?" She says, stepping off the porch as she gestures at the sidewalk. Although the sun has yet to fully drop, the street lamps bordering the road are already lit and glaring down at them from above.

Shutting the door, he nods as he follows her down the steps. "Sure."

From the dining room, Millie peeks yet again from the other side of the curtain. But this time, instead of looking at Bennett, she watches as the couple walks down the sidewalk and away from her house. She finally comes to the realization that perhaps it is too late for her and Taylor to ever reconnect.

♫ ᴏɴᴇ ᴅᴀʏ ᴛᴏᴏ ʟᴀᴛᴇ / sᴋɪʟʟᴇᴛ ♫