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There were three police vehicles outside our front door.

They lined down our driveway like hearses down a street, colored but silent. A cool spring breeze wafted into my room, chilling my overheating joints. I cracked my neck and forced myself to relax. It was nearing midnight. Most of the officers in the cars had gone back to the Evergreen Hotel by the shopping district. It was so silent I could hear the leaves of the old tree rustling.

Mulroy and Fiona were still off investigating the new murder, and they hadn't been back in over a week. I was free for a while.

Somebody was still down there, sitting in the last patrol car with the light off and the window rolled down. Soft blues music spilled out and rode on the breeze, drifting into my room. It was now or never. They had to be asleep, right?

With trembling fingers, I slipped out of the window. I reached for a thick branch and clutched the closest one I could find. I curled my legs around the wide trunk. Quick and silent, I climbed down the rest of the tree and plopped onto the soft, wet grass below. The swing creaked in the wind. I ran down the side of the house, glancing over my shoulder every five seconds, my heart racing in my chest.

We trainers slipped over the grass, but I walked on until I reached the edge of our back garden. There was a wooden door embedded in the fence. Slipping out the keys that I'd pilfered from Mum's room, I unlocked and the door ran out. My ears pricked at every sound, listening out for a shout of 'Hey!' and the unmistakable sizzling of a taser.

The streets were quiet at this time of night. It reminded me of the times when Emily invited the gang out to get wasted on expensive beer and scream at stray pigeons that passed by. The bitter taste of beer tingled the back of my mouth, and I longed for her white smiles and crazy ideas.

She had such weird beliefs.

I pushed the thought out of my head. Pulling the hood of my old jacket up - Mum promised to sew my other pink one up - I avoided the streetlamps. They sprinkled yellow light onto the wet tarmac, illuminating whole areas. I wandered down our neighborhood, taking the back alleys lined with trimmed topiaries. I was halfway down to the Black Crag cliffs and thinking of a way to find Zayn when I noticed it. Bunting covered every tree, strings of red and black. The colors of the Black Hill Golf Team.

Somebody had stuck posters over the lamp posts, pieces of paper stamped with Kyle's face. His bright blue eyes stared at me from every angle. He wasn't smiling. I suppose he wasn't allowed to, with his sister found dead in a lake.

Kyle's Return Party! All Night at the Richardson Home!

I remembered seeing Zayn's wild head of hair at the few parties I'd attended before I started hanging out exclusively with the gang. She was always in a gloomy corner somewhere, surrounded in her own wafts of blue smoke, her dark eyes painted a watery red. I hoped she would be at this one. I needed something in Emily's house that gave me some information about my friends. Then I could start to piece together what might have happened. Something was off about all this.

Zayn would be there. She had to be.

I readjusted my hood and strode down the streets, my mind already at the return party.

If you could call it a party. Tension curled around everybody like a shadow. It was sticky and cloying, like the bitter scent of death, and it wouldn't come off. I'd pictured Kyle walking around, grinning and knocking back beers with his tanned tennis friends from the continent. In reality, he stood in a corner, his shoulders hunched, a permanent can of beer stuck in his hand.

Those could be tears in his eyes. Or the light reflection.

I'd pulled my hood up as far as it could go, hiding the sides of my face with my hair. Nobody was speaking, and if somebody was it was in hushed whispers. Until somebody glared at them and they shut up. Zayn sat sprawled on a plush leather couch, biting on her nails. I made my way to her, careful not to draw attention to myself. I gestured to the hallway.

"Never pegged you for a criminal," Zayn murmured, but her eyes were twinkling. I glared at her. "Didn't know you had it in you to escape that prison."

We made it out into the hallway before I spoke.

"My own home isn't a prison. Yet." I added as we climbed up the stairs. "I wanted to say thank you for saving me back at school."

The dim lighting made it hard to see anything, but I could make out the petal rose blush on her face. I glanced away, smiling at the spread of warmth in my chest.

"It's nothing. There's nothing to do at school, now. Keane's gone mad for assemblies and says an entire sermon for the Society each Friday." She rolled her eyes. "Right then, what did you drag me up here for?"

I showed her the antique gold lock on a door to the left of the landing. The Narnia entrance to Emily's bedroom. Patting the smooth wood, I turned back to Zayn who was watching me with a strange expression on her face.

"Do you know how to break into a dead girl's bedroom?" I asked. My lower lip trembled and the backs of my eyes prickled. It was stupid - I'd only known the gang for a few months before they died. Before the lake took them. "I know it sounds weird but I need it."

Zayn pursed her lips, but after a while, she slipped out a few bobby pins and a weird metal set of tools from her back pocket.

"You owe me a big one," she said.

I tilted my head towards the top of the stairs as she stuck the bobby pin into the lock. Linda and her husband were off in the Evergreen Hotel, so Kyle had the house all to himself. I wondered if the silence made Emily's absence echo. I brushed away the sadness in my heart and focused on listening for the sound of incoming footsteps.

Zayn's dark eyes flicked over to mine. They were hot with worry, glistening in the dim lighting of the Richardson's house. The neon lights glowed above us, lighting one side of her pretty face in red and shrouding the other in shadows.

Finally, there was an audible click when the tip of the bobby pin lifted the latch in the keyhole. I let out a breath, rolling my shoulders to relieve the tension. She gave the door a gentle shove. It swung open, silent as the night. I sent a silent thank you to door hinge oil. This was the most illegal thing I'd ever done. Even dating Felix hadn't let me onto two crime scenes in the space of a week.

Emily's room looked exactly the same on the outside. The walls were the same monochrome grey, decorated in heather decals. It complemented the deep wood flooring. There was her bed, fluffed up with a mountain of pillows and a gauzy princess curtain surrounding it. Her TV stood on a set of painted golden drawers.

Zayn tried to step in, but I grabbed her arm, gripping it. 

"You can't go in there," I said over her protests. "Trust me, okay? You can't go in there. And I need you to do one last favor for me."

Her face contorted, threads of frustration seeping through the cracks. She seemed to calm herself down and I waited, my heart in my chest, as she nodded her assent. I pushed away the strong urge to throw my arms around her and squeeze tight.

"I need you to find out what's up with Kyle. I don't want to risk getting punched on sight."

Zayn furrowed her brows. Downstairs, somebody coughed, followed by mumbled apologies. I imagined Kyle cured over the island counter, waiting for the party to be over, and couldn't help but feel bad for him.

"This conspiracy is getting weird," Zayn murmured. "Fine, what do you want me to find out?"

"Anything about Emily. He likes to talk about her a lot. I've been getting the feeling lately that something's wrong with this whole thing." I clasped her petite shoulder and felt a spike of envy shoot through me. My shoulders were far too big for my body and tilted downwards like a giant mountain. "Thank you. For everything."

Stepping back from me, Zayn tilted her lips in her enigmatic smile and scurried down the stairs. I entered Emily's room and steeled myself against what I would have to do.

Walking over the threshold of the room sent shivers down my spine, and I almost booked it out of there. I waited until my raging heartbeat slowed down and wandered over to the large vintage vanity. They took everything except for the crystal decanter I knew Linda gave to Emily when she was young. That woman probably fought for it to stay in the room.

Her room looked the same, but it felt nothing like before. She had been the sun, the center of our solar system. The pole I turned around when everyone else in Blach Hill worshipped the lake. Now it was an empty shell. I wracked my brain for memories of secrets - anything that would lead me to an answer.

Something blood red. Coated in leather. Tainted in black edges, like it had gone through a fire, with a rusting metal pentacle embossed onto the front.

I remembered it, but where had she put it? Taking care not to brush over anything, I unzipped my pocket and brought out a pair of surgical blue gloves. They reminded me of sharp scalpels and turning away from the mushy parts of medical shows with Felix. Something tweaked in my chest, bittersweet and tangy like the taste of blood. I slipped on the gloves and went to the queen-sized bed by the window. Grunting, I pushed at the large wooden headboard. My arm muscles protested.

I tried again. I had a feeling, a strange urge that tugged at me. The crash and slam of the lake waters rose in my ears, urging me on. With one last quiet huff, I shoved the bed enough from the wall that I could slip my hand down and rub against the wall. I trailed my fingers over the paint.

Maybe there's nothing there. Maybe you're on a wild goose chase, and this 'feeling' you have is nothing but smoke and mirrors.

I shoved the thought away. There had to be something here, or else the only option I'd have was to hope Kyle gave something away to Zayn. That, or talk to the McMahon woman down by the cliffs. The thought made me search harder.

The plastic of the glove snagged against something. A tiny gap, a chip in the paint. Biting my lip, I readjusted my body until my stomach was half-pressing into the bedframe. I could reach the gap, and I pressed against it, breathing out roughly when it slid open. The sounds of a grating tile filled the room.

Please God let nobody have heard that. I couldn't afford to mess this up.

Footsteps pounded up the stairs. Somebody was coming up.

I couldn't breathe. Squeezing my eyes shut, I reached into the hollow the tile revealed and wrapped my fingers around a large rectangular object. Voices fluttered outside like butterflies, hushed yet harsh.

I slid shut the wall and stuffed the book into my jacket pocket, grateful for the huge pockets. Pain flared at the back of my head, but I ignored it. As I pushed the bed back into position, the din of a thousand angry bees filled me up like a balloon. Tears sprung up in my eyes. The pain in my head skyrocketed, and I succumbed to the darkness.

🌊

BEFORE THE INCIDENT - Summer '18

I met Yana and Dylan only a few days after Umi had chased away the McMahon woman. Arthur and I had got along so well, we went down to the Black Crag Cliffs after my tennis practice on schooldays and weekends. When we were inhaling the sharp sting of the wind and hurling Bud Light bottles down into the sea below, he invited me to Emily's Summer Bash. I accepted with beer on my lips and stars shining in my eyes.

At the bash, colored balloons and streamers decorated the house to the nines. Champagne flutes floated around the room. Then, Linda and Emily's dad left, and the chilled Smirnoff bottles came out. Banana, Lemon-lime, Grape.

The deep base music shook my bones. There were a few people from school that I knew there. They were all spread out into different corners, smoking and smiling. The DJ danced by the bar, where their hired mixologist hand-mixed special drinks.

I downed far too many red solo cups of them and was already high and floaty when Yana and Dylan found me.

Yana was beautiful, shorter than me and tiny except for her hair which floated in a large afro around her face.

"Hey, Annalise, right?" She said when she was close enough. I nodded, my heart speeding up in my chest. I'd stalked their table for so long I felt I knew everything about her. "We've heard a lot about you from Umi and Arthur. They like you a lot, actually!"

She grinned. Her mouth seemed fixed in a permanent smile. I wondered if her cheeks ever hurt.

"Oh, thank God," I shouted. Dylan winced. "I thought I'd made a total fool of myself with Umi. She's so tall and amazing, I felt like I was meeting a tennis star or something, like-"

Dylan cut me off. My tongue felt loose. The alcohol let the words slip from my mouth.

"We were thinking we could hang out, the three of us."

I blinked at him. "Like, right now?"

"Yes. It'll be fun." His voice was hard, but he was smiling. I grinned back and followed them out of the living room.

As we entered the hallway, a movement outside one of the large windows caught my eye. A shag of brown and grey hair and a blue eye caked with yellow crust stared at me. The McMahon woman stood outside the window in the warm night, peering into the party. Yana dragged me away and up a set of unfamiliar stairs before I could say anything.

The McMahon woman slipped from my mind.

"Where are we going?" I asked, swallowing a mouthful of bubblegum acid.

"To Emily's room," Yana said. She grinned at me, and I felt myself brightening immediately. She had the sweet smile of a shark, and twice as wide. "There's a game we play with all our new friends. Don't worry, it'll be fine. Is that your favorite flavor?"

She pointed to the red solo cup and I blinked at her. My mind felt foggy from the alcohol, but I shook my head. "Nah, I grabbed whatever was available."

In front of us, Dylan snorted, his dark skin glowing blue in the dim light. I wondered if he and Yana were seeing each other, or if they were best friends. They were never apart, stuck together like Siamese twins.

Yana's dress showed off her petite shoulders. It had a pocket at the side which she'd shoved her black Moleskin notebook in. She was a poet and had several published works in different magazines that I didn't know. I'd never been into writing. Dylan opened the door and we stepped into a room I'd always dreamed of going into.

He immediately went over to the bed and glanced at Yana. She grabbed my arm, and dragged me towards the far side of the room, away from Dylan. Her voice lilted like the sweet lyrics to a song, chattering away about the most inane thing.

She only stopped when Dylan wrapped an arm around her shoulder, holding a book in his other hand. There was a strange light in his eyes.

"What's that?" I asked, pointing at the book.

Dylan looked up at me, which made me want to look away from the heat of his gaze. "It's nothing to concern yourself with, yet. Just enjoy our game."

The booze must have had an effect on me because the edges of my vision blurred and smudged like Oliver's oil pastels. I tried to focus on the book, but the sharp edges slipped from my view, leaving a blob red and black. My vision refocused when I looked anywhere else.

This is some funky vodka.

"Trust me, you'll love it!" Yana exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. "Relax, and take deep breaths. Emily will be so glad to meet you."

I smiled back at her, a sense of serenity falling over me like a cloud.

I did what they asked of me. At one point, Yana grabbed a marker and drew a weird symbol on my left forearm - half an anchor with two triangles protruding from it. The skin on the back of my neck prickled. When she finished it every nerve in my body seized up, but I listened to Yana and watched Dylan's pretty eyes watch me. It was only a game.

The door slammed open and Emily stalked in. Her blonde hair was as beautiful as ever. The smooth press of her silk jumpsuit tried to mask the frazzled look in her eyes when she caught sight of the red book.

She grabbed it from the bed and looked about ready to whack Dylan in the back of the head with it when her gaze landed on me.

She exhaled, deep and slow, and lowered the book. The tension seemed to drain from her body, leaving a soft, smiling ray of sunshine.

"Sorry about that," she murmured. "They're always playing with my stuff, even though I tell them not to touch anything. Damn, you're hammered."

I shrugged. Everything felt like gossamer, feathery and fine, the threads of reality slipping away. Emily Richardson was talking to me.

"Right, that's enough of that, I think." She grabbed my cup and placed it on her vanity, far from my reach. "Hey, if you remember this, come hang out with us during lunch one time, yeah?"

I nodded. It felt like I'd downed a bottle of euphoria.

Behind her, Yana and Dylan hissed at each other. Their voices were like the din of a thousand angry bees, and I followed their back and forth like a tennis match. Yana hit Dylan's chest, her face scrunched up like a paper ball. He scowled and stepped on her flats, pushing down the straps. Reaching down, Yana slipped off her shoe to adjust them, revealing the smooth underside of her foot. Or, it was supposed to be. Instead, there was a weird tattoo etched into her skin. Only, it didn't look like a tattoo. It looked like a burn mark.

Yana was branded. Branded with the same symbol she'd drawn on my arm.