"Would you like to buy a match?" The little brown-haired girl asked, offering me a box that she was selling. Her big brown eyes stared into my very soul, she seemed to be no older than twelve. It is dangerous for such a young girl to be out by herself. "I'll throw in a second box for twenty percent off," She added before playing with her dark twin braids, twirling them around her finger nervously. I couldn't help but notice the dirt smudges on her tattered clothes and the worn-out boots on her feet. A guy stood a couple of feet away on his phone, he looked up at us every now and then, he resembled her, so he must have been a relative. Her brother, maybe? Wait he's tall, had to be six foot at least.

A pang of sadness tugged at my heartstrings. I was lucky enough that my father made a decent amount of money and had important colleges. Growing up, I didn't have to be out in the dangerous, cold streets selling matches. My hand slipped into my trench coat pocket when my little half-sister Zoella opened her big, fat mouth, "Ew, why are you dressed like that? Are you homeless?" I cringed at my sister's insensitive remark, feeling a mix of embarrassment and guilt wash over me. As I glanced at the girl, her eyes welled up with tears. The guy nearby was now shooting daggers at us. Thanks a lot Zoey.

"Zoella," I snapped, turning to the eight-year-old girl. "That's not nice! Apologize right now!"

"I don't want to," she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

I shook my head in disappointment. Zoe was a carbon copy of her mother and a brat most of the time. If I didn't do anything she would become a despicable woman much like her mother. Zachery, on the other hand, clung to my left arm. "I like your earmuffs," the soft-spoken boy began. I smiled at Zachery's compliment, grateful for my brother. He was definitely the better twin to deal with. I love you my little Zackroo.

He was nothing like his mother or twin sister. Zachary was quiet and didn't speak much, just how I liked it. I fished out some money from my pocket and handed it to the girl. "You can keep the matches, I'm sorry about my little sister, she runs her mouth before thinking."

The guy approached us and snatched the money from the girl. "We don't need your pity!" He huffed, shoving the money back into my hand. I was taken aback by his aggression. Zachery held onto my arm tighter. I could feel his unease through his grip.

"No Kai, we need it," the little girl pleaded.

"Look, dude, this isn't out of pity, I just really love matches." I lied. The guy's expression didn't soften, and now the girl and the twins were in tears. What a jerk. I handed the girl the money back. "I'm so sorry, sweetie. I know it's not much, but it's all I have to give right now," I turned my attention to the guy. "I hope you feel good about yourself. You just made three kids cry. Congratulations on being the world's biggest douchebag," As I glared at the man, he seemed unaffected. It infuriated me to see someone who lacked empathy and treat children so harshly.

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I pushed Zoella and Zachery inside the bookstore, 'Goldielocks' Book Nook' where they continued crying. "Welcome to Gol- Oh, howdy stranger, why the long faces?" My best friend, Jordan, greeted his smile faltering when he noted the twins' tear-stained faces. "What's wrong white Tweedle Mute and Tweedle Glam?" He asked running a hand through his dirty blonde hair as his blue eyes shifted from the minions to me.

"Just a douche scared them," I stated with a frown, "Can I hang in the back?" I asked, "I need to figure somethings out."

"You don't even have to ask Em," he replied with a nod. I guided the twins to the children's section, where they could pick out books that interested them to keep them busy while I got some work done. As Zoella and Zachery began scanning the colorful shelves, their tears gradually subsided. "You'll tell me what happened though, right?"

"Anything I can share will be public knowledge in due time," I replied, I loved my job but I hated keeping things from him. Friends don't lie to each other.

"I don't mind keeping an eye on them while reorganizing the shelves," Jordan offered. I smiled gratefully at him and nodded, knowing that the twins would be in safe hands. As I watched them explore the books I turned on my heels to the backroom that was reserved for staff. I couldn't help but feel grateful for Jordan's unwavering support. The bookstore had always been a sanctuary for us, a place where we could escape from the troubles of the outside world. Jordan worked here since his sophomore year of highschool, and the fact that Goldilocks was his mother's good friend helped him get his foot in the door. He always made his love for me known but our relationship was merely platonic.

I looked over my shoulder and watched the trio before I headed into the staff lounge. I brewed a pot of coffee before I set up my laptop and pulled out the Manila folder to go over the case. Saturday was my day off, but that doesn't mean I took the day off. The home screen of the crime website I frequented popped up as I logged in. A notification chimed, which let me know I had a message.

PeachRiscotto12: So an heiress died this morning; people are saying it was su*c*de. What do you think happened?

We've been exchanging messages back and forth for a year now, but I never met him in person and didn't plan on it. He could have been a fifty year old perv for all I knew or a woman. I bit the inside of my cheek and pushed some loose curls out of my face. That's right, he lives locally.

MangoSmoothie07: Yeah, Ella Glass. I guess you saw the news.

They were offline, but knew they would see it sooner or later. I opened a new tab and searched Ella Glass' and wrote down a list of her relatives' names.

The pot of coffee beeped, letting me know that it was ready, but I barely noticed. My mind was consumed with finding any clue that could confirm my suspicion. I opened a new browser and logged onto my work website, trying to pull Mrs. Glass' case file, but was denied access. That's never happened before.

I sent a quick text to my boss, 'Hey, so I was trying to open the Mrs. Glass case file but was denied access. Do you know why?'

I turned my attention to the coffee machine and grabbed a disposal cup before adding sugar and creamer. After I took a sip of the liquid heaven my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out checking the message. 'It's a glitch, don't worry about it.'

He brushed me off, which only made me worry more. It couldn't possibly be that simple; could it ? Something about his response left me with more questions than answers. Was he hiding something from me?