(TW: Blood)

My palms grew sweaty, and a lump filled my throat as I watched the blonde woman's blood pour into the snow-covered concrete. It was a scene I thought I would never see happen in front of me. This may have been my first dead body, but it wasn't my first dead body with all the trips I took to the morgue whenever a young girl who would have matched Grace's description met their ends.

The faint sound of a siren was heard in the distance. I looked up to see where she could have fallen from. The building had to be at least ten stories high. Did she fall from the roof? Wasn't there a railing up there?"

I tried to replay the scene in my mind. She landed on her stomach side first. So wouldn't that mean she had to have been pushed? Was this a real-life murder was I finally getting my big break?

The woman I identified was Ella Glass. She had to have died on impact with the way her body laid there, deformed, I swear I heard the sound of bones breaking upon impact. Her wedding ring was missing, and there were scars on her arms that looked to be self-inflicted. Her feet had cuts all over them, maybe from the glass slippers she seemed to always wear. Behind her ear was a small tattoo of a bear. I have no clue what that means. A calling card perhaps? There was a name tattooed on her right inner forearm. Pied Piper? I swallowed hard; it was a name I had long tried to forget. I took a picture of the evidence I found on my smartphone.

A car door opened and closed. I looked up for a split second, seeing my cocky coworker exit his luxury vehicle. He could have at least tried to look more presentable. His fly was undone and his shirt wasn't properly buttoned. "Were you in the middle of something?" I asked as he approached. He smelled like sweat, Jasmine, and honey. Caught in 4k.

"Chase ya go home," Jasper said heavily accented as he approached smelling like sweat, Jasmine, and honey. Caught in 4k. Jasper D'Alessio. The world's best detective. Or so people seemed to believe. More like an egotistical womanizer.

"That's what I plan on doing, D'Alessio," I said nonchalantly, looking away from him. Ella Glass was my role model. She taught me that girls could come from nothing and still end up on top.

"Er, why don' ya go gey cleaned up and I'll call a yaxi for ya. Can' have a kid walking ay yhis hour," he flashed me a fake smile as I returned it still in my squatting position by the body. I checked for a pulse but there wasn't one.

"Cleaned up?" I asked my eyes met his again.

"Goy blood 'n yer shoes," he stated and pointed down to my boots. "Where woz ya clueless, or woz iy a fashion s'ayement?"

"Oh, thank you," I said as he nodded, "Your fly is down, by the way, was that a style choice or do you just have rice krispies for brains?" I asked, he glared as I flashed an innocent smile. He hated my guts and I loved how I wasn't even twenty yet but got under a thirty-year-old man's skin.

I asked the security guard the direction of the bathroom. "By the way, there's a dead person out there, so you may want to get your story straight before you get written up," he frowned, I smiled. There was something about grown men who hated teenage girls telling them how to do their job that I found so thrilling.

The floors were a nice white tile with sparkly cyan intricate designs; it was almost too tidy for a public restroom. The shade of blue on the walls matched that on the floor.

A hum escaped my rose-tinted lips, I made my way over to the sink and grabbed a handful of paper towels, I turned on the faucet to scrub my boots. My heart raced, and my mind played the scene in my head on repeat.

There was a blunt force trauma wound on the back of her head, her fingertips had a blue tint that only pointed to the illegal drug sapphire. Now why would the most beloved heiress in the country get involved with such a thing?

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The last stall creaked, which startled me, I nearly jumped out of my skin. The memory of the last time I saw my dear sister entered my mind.

"Grace, we should be going to bed; we have school tomorrow," the Seven-year-old me stated as the doll-eyed six-year-old continued to jump on my bed. Her blonde curls bounced with her every jump.

"Wouldn't it be amazing to go on an adventure?" She asked, trying to pull me up from bed.

"No, that'd be dangerous," I groaned trying to hold on to the headboard so I wouldn't fall onto the floor.

"But think about all the mysteries we can discover; the woods are basically in our backyard," She beamed, "My friend Cari said her grandmother brought her a bb gun to use in the woods near her home to scare away the wolves that attacks their chickens,"

"Mysteries get people killed," I stated as she sighed and went to sit by the window. "Go to sleep, tomorrow is important."

"A secret is a secret," She mumbled as I turned and faced the wall. She mumbled something I couldn't quite hear.

"Go to sleep, Grace." I muttered, trying to get comfortable in my bed and get some rest, when a creaking noise entered the room.

At first, I tried to ignore it before I heard an unknown male voice that made me freeze and nearly pee myself, "Emmmmm-ber," The male voice said, drawing out my name like a haunting melody. "Beware, Ember. The shadows hold secrets darker than you can imagine. Little Grace has ventured where she ought not. Heed my words, lest you too become lost in the night."

I instinctively curled up in a ball to cover my ears before crying, "Mama! Papa!"

A sigh escaped my lips as my boots were now as clean as they were going to get. Grace's last words repeated in my head "A secret is a secret," I'll find you, Grace, I promise.

My attention shifted to the mirror, which had a business card sticking out of the corner of it. Hatters Tea Room?

I hated being alone. It left me feeling uneasy, "Emmmmm-ber," The voice echoed in the back of my mind causing me to grip the sink, I felt a cold sweat dripping from my forehead. It's the same voice I heard when Grace disappeared. My classmates said it was because I was psychotic and I probably murdered my own sister because I was jealous, but she was my best friend and the last person I would want to see disappear.

Once I calmed myself down, I grabbed the card and turned it over to find a riddle on the back and read it out loud. "Twisted like time. I wear my hat with pride. A tea party of riddles where truths may hide. With whimsical madness and a grin so wide, Who am I? Let your curious mind decide." So odd.

The stall door continued to creak; I can go give it a quick look over. Every step I took clacked against the tile. The sound grew louder the moment I pushed open the door. The walls were covered in all kinds of graffiti. I read a few lines here and there. Die! Ella Glass? More like Ella Trash. Homewrecker! Backstabber. Snake.

I raised a brow continuing my investigation, the whole stall was covered with hateful messages. I fished my phone from my pocket and snapped a couple of quick pictures.

A knock echoed, "Ya done in yhere kid?" Jasper asked, his voice laced with impatience from the other side of the door. It snapped me back to my unfortunate reality. "Whay yook ya so long, Chase?" He asked as I opened the door.

"The last stall is filled with graffiti, so you may want to have someone check it out; that might be a clue," I stated putting the business card on the receptionist's desk since I saw no need for tea at the moment. Or ever; I never cared for the beverage. Besides I had more important matters than checking out a tea shop. If Mr, Stiltskin wouldn't put me on the field then I'll crack the case myself.

"Yeh shure," He stated, "Yer yaxi is here," He added, as he moved aside so I could exit the bathroom.

"Her wedding ring is missing, so you might want to check there," I began, "I suspect drugs were involved,"

"Yes Chase, ya go home, leave yhis yo yhe profeshionals," he stated holding the door open for me. "Be safe ya hear."

I let out a sigh, making a breath cloud. My eyes shifted to the now pink stained snow. I guess they took her already.

The snow crunched under my feet and left footprints that led toward the parked taxi. The door closed with a thud. "Where are you headed, miss?" He asked with a cigar that hung out of his mouth.

"23 Evergreen Lane, please."

"Didn't a girl go missing from there eight years ago?" He asked, "I hear that place is haunted."

"Eleven," I corrected, "It was my little sister, and not haunted unless you're referring the wicked witch and her little demon spawns."

"Oh, I'm sorry for your loss,"

I forced a smile. It was always the same. People would either say I'm sorry for your loss or, oh, that must stink having to bury your little sister. In actuality, no body was ever recovered. I knew Grace was still out there somewhere, lost and scared. I was determined to find her. Hence, why I decided to work at the local detective agency.