The American flag above the Sunnycrest County Jail whipped in the winter wind. The rope used to raise and lower it beat against the metal flagpole with loud pings. It had been at half mast for a week now, at the order of the Sunnycrest mayor. The air was full of powdery snow, blowing and drifting: nothing new, but the fairly fresh results of a snowstorm the previous night.

Maureen Taylor hustled up the front walk, gloved fingers clutching the handle of her briefcase tightly. Her coat was buttoned, but that wasn't good enough. With her free hand, she pinched it tight around her exposed neck. She had set her scarf out that morning. She knew she'd need it, she had heard the wind blowing outside her apartment, and it had certainly sounded cold. “Don't forget your scarf, stupid.” But she went and forgot it anyway.

She threw open the door and sighed gratefully as she stepped inside. The jail felt blessedly warm. The flecks of snow in her long, brown hair quickly melted, and her round glasses fogged. Maureen resisted the urge to take her coat off, however. She knew from experience that once she got used to the jailhouse, its slightly damp coolness would begin to get to her.

The guard behind the desk, and the wall of bulletproof glass, looked up at her. She didn't recognize him, and likewise he didn't recognize her. “Visiting hours ain't until two,” he told her.

Maureen sighed. She approached the glass, reaching a hand into her coat. She pulled out one of her cards and slipped it under the slot in the glass. The guard picked it up and read it.

MAUREEN TAYLOR

Public Defender

“I'd like to see my client, please,” she told him.

The guard didn't need to ask who she was talking about. Sunnycrest was not a big town, and its jailhouse was not exactly a high traffic facility. There was a beep as he unlocked the gate. “Be my guest. Good luck. You'll need it.”

As a guard escorted Maureen into the jail proper, she had to shake her head. Good luck? Did he really think Maureen would be so stupid as to try to win this case? It sounded like they had the kid dead to rights. There wasn't a jury in Sunnycrest, in the state...no, it was a national story now, wasn't it? In the country. There wasn't a jury in the country who would find her innocent. The whole way over here she'd been thinking not of courtroom strategy, but of plea deal scenarios.

As she walked she crossed paths with a young woman in a police uniform. Pretty, with black hair in a long-on-top sort of pixie cut which tossed a knife of bangs down to her right eyebrow. “Oh, hey Lara,” Maureen said.

Lara smiled at her. “Maureen! Hey. Here to meet our celebrity? Autographs are ten bucks. You can pay me and I'll make sure the state gets it.”

Maureen smirked. “Not exactly. You're here early, aren't you?”

“I'm clocking out, actually. I work the graveyard shift now.”

“Ah.” Maureen thought the term was apt. Sunnycrest PD had been helping to bury a lot of people lately. “She's in the interrogation room, right?”

“Right.”

Maureen hesitated. “What am I in for? Be honest.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well...you know,” Maureen said, slightly embarrassed. “Is she freaky? Is she going to try to puke at me and speak in tongues, or...”

Lara laughed. “No...not likely. She's pretty mellow, actually.” Her smile softened. “She's, er, slow. She doesn't really have a malicious energy.”

Maureen recalled hearing about that. “The news said she's handicapped.”

“We're not sure what her story is. Neither is she, she's never been officially checked out. Stayed out of the doctor's office for the most part. Our psych analyst meets with her this afternoon; we might have something more concrete then.” She saw the gears turning in Maureen's head. “You'll have angles you can work. I can guarantee you that.”

Lara's phone rang. She took it off her belt and looked at it. “Ah, this is my daughter,” She moved on, walking off the way Maureen came. With a wave, she requested, “Don't work any miracles on this one, okay? See you, Maureen.”

“No guarantees, Lara.”

The guard led Maureen to the interrogation room. Maureen put her hand on the doorknob, took a nervous breath, and opened the door.

Denver Hightower had been in jail a week at this point. Her brown hair was a bit unkempt, her face was denuded of makeup, and her eyes looked dark and tired. She looked up at Maureen as Maureen entered. The lawyer smiled at her.

“Hi, Denver. How are you doing?”

“I'm okay,” said Denver. “Who are you?”

Maureen walked over to the table Denver was handcuffed to, unaware that she was holding her briefcase in front of her like a shield. The news reports, Denver's case file, she vividly recalled it all in an instant. She was in the presence of a monster.

And Denver felt like a monster. A beast of some kind. Her eyes, her height, and a sort of hardness to her spirit. There was an air of power to her. But Lara was right, it wasn't a malicious air. Still, it was hard not to feel intimidated by a girl like this.

“My name is Maureen Taylor. I'm the attorney who the state has assigned to defend you,” said Maureen, sounding warm. She took out one of her business cards and laid it on the table. Denver picked it up in a cuffed hand and read it.

“Oh,” said Denver. “My lawyer.”

“That's right,” said Maureen. “Are they treating you alright, here?”

Denver didn't answer for a moment. She put the card down. “They don't really like me, much.”

“Who, the police here?”

“Yeah. I helped kill a lot of kids and stuff around Sunnycrest. So I can't blame them for being mad.”

Maureen frowned. Jesus, she didn't expect the girl to come right out and say it. It took her a second to gather her thoughts. “Are...are you saying they've been mistreating you, Denver?”

Denver thought about it. “No.” said Denver carefully. She repeated, “They're just mad. I don't blame them.”

Maureen felt she was hiding something. “You said you helped...you said you really did those things. Is that true?”

“Yes. I helped a lot. I was the strongest one, so I was a big help. We killed a lot of kids. For the devil.”

That was about the point the jail started feeling cold. Maureen swaddled her coat around herself a bit tighter.

“You're going to help me?” asked Denver. “But I did it. You might as well not bother.”

Maureen decided this was the time to ease Denver into the reality of plea bargaining as her best option. “Well, a defense attorney's job isn't always to get a 'not guilty' verdict. My job is really just to do the best for you that I can to make sure justice is fairly served. Trust me, the court of public opinion can make things hairy for a defendant in cases like this. You'll be glad you had me in your corner. In your case, I recommend-”

“I'd like to do a plea deal,” said Denver suddenly.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Maureen was surprised. “You would?”

“Yes,” Denver replied. “I'd like to plead guilty. I already gave a confession.”

“You did what?” asked Maureen. She quickly opened her briefcase and began flipping through files. She hadn't seen anything about that. “A recorded confession?”

“Yeah.”

Maureen sighed. “Jeez, Denver...I wish you hadn't done that...”

“Why not?” asked Denver. “If I'm going to plead guilty anyway, what does it matter?”

“You're not supposed to talk to the police without a lawyer...” Maureen told her. “Never mind.”

She got up and knocked on the door. When the guard opened it, she asked the guard to fetch the recording for her, as well as any other evidence the police department was holding out on.

As she returned to her seat, Denver was watching her. Denver's expression was as blank as it had been when Maureen walked in. “Uh, if I plead guilty, I'll go to the looney bin instead of jail, right?”

This set off a red flag for Maureen. The confession, and now this question...whoever interrogated Denver had made her some promises and put some ideas in her head. “I don't know. Serving time in a mental health facility could be on the table, if the judge believes you were not responsible for your actions due to your mental state. Do you think that was the case?”

Denver thought about it, then looked confused. “I dunno.”

“Well, do you like the sound of being put somewhere like that?”

Denver looked down at the table. She balled her hands into fists on the tabletop. “I dunno. I don't really care I guess.”

“You don't?” asked Maureen.

“If they kill me I guess it doesn't matter. I killed a lot of people so maybe they should kill me too,” said Denver. “My friends are dead. When they were alive it was simpler. It was a lot easier to know what to do. They cared about me. They were the only people who ever did and nobody else ever would. London agreed with me on that. So I did the things I thought would help them and keep them safe.” She looked up at Maureen. “With them gone, I don't know what to do. I guess it doesn't matter what happens.”

At that moment, the guard returned. In his hands was a reinforced cardboard box full of files. Maureen didn't take her stunned eyes off Denver until he set the box down on the table in front of her, snapping her out of her reverie.

On top was the same tape recorder Denver had seen when Lara interrogated her. Below it was a typed transcript of the interrogation.

Maureen looked at the top page as the cop had left the room again and closed the door. “'Interrogating Officer: Lara Boyd?'” she read aloud. She looked at Denver. “Officer Boyd was the one who interrogated you?”

“Yeah,” said Denver.

That struck Maureen as odd. Not that Lara would interrogate Denver, but that she wouldn't think to mention that to Maureen during their conversation.

“It's okay, right?” asked Denver. “If I'm pleading guilty anyway, what's the difference?”

“If we go that route, I guess it doesn't,” said Maureen. “It just gives them a bargaining chip, that's all.” She smiled. “But don't worry. We'll get this sorted out. You're a minor, and you're...I don't think you were responsible for your actions. One way or another, there's no way you're getting a maximum sentence. I'm not gonna let that happen.”

Denver looked back down at the table. “Okay. Thanks.”

Maureen stood and took the box into her arms. “Nice to meet you, Denver. I'll talk to you tomorrow and we'll get into a more detailed game plan. Right now, it looks like I've got some more reading to do.”

.............

Given the suddenness of Miss Cha's departure, a card bearing her name was still slotted into the placard beside her office door. Alicia, Caitlin and Lindsey found this door unlocked, and when the coast was clear, they crept inside.

The Sunnycrest faculty had not had time to clear out Maureen's office, and she apparently brought little with her, if anything. The chairs she and Chase had sat in were still there, along with her potted plants, her desk with one of the school's computers, and two tea cups with matching saucers and a dish containing a variety of tea bags.

“You know, we've been asking ourselves why Chase would leave Sunnycrest and go with Miss Cha,” said Lindsey, pulling out her desk chair and spinning it around, “but what about Miss Cha herself? Let's say she really did use some kind of trick on Chase. Why would she want to go to all that trouble? What does Chase mean to her?”

“Well, we know from Agent Stevens and that weird girl in the maze that the government has taken an interest in Chase,” said Caitlin. “Maybe she's some kind of secret agent.”

Alicia picked up the teacup sitting beside the guest chair. There was still a dark stain of dried tea at the bottom. She wondered if Chase was the one who left it there, but could have not have known that yes, she was indeed. “If she is, I doubt she'd leave anything important behind, but let's check anyway. This is the only lead we have.”

Alicia and Caitlin began flipping through the books on her bookshelf. There wasn't much to see, just a bunch of generic books on psychology, self-esteem, and so on. Caitlin thought it was likely that none of these books were even Cha's, and that they belonged to the school instead and stayed in this office permanently. Meanwhile, Lindsey sat down at her desk and turned on the computer. Caitlin knew the admin password the teachers used from her stint as a teacher's aide, and so Lindsey was able to get in.

Inside, they were able to find records of Andrea's sessions. They saw Chase was by far her most frequent client, and that Chase had met with her the day before she disappeared. There was space in the day planner entry for notes, but these spaces were all blank. If Miss Cha had any thoughts about Chase, she kept them elsewhere.

Lindsey opened up Andrea's internet browser and checked her browsing history. “Aha, jackpot!” she said. There was a long list of websites. “She must be computer illiterate.”

“Wow? Are there really people in this day and age who are THAT computer illiterate?” asked Caitlin. “She's not that old.”

Her history was a bit odd. Miss Cha had spent a great deal of time on wikipedia, reading various articles. She had gone through the page for every year from 1988 to the present, and from these pages she had read about various major events that had happened in a very systematic manner.

“What, was she feeling nostalgic for her younger days?” asked Alicia.

“It's weird,” said Lindsey. “It's more like something you'd do if you'd been living under a rock for the past twenty-five years and needed to catch up.”

Miss Cha had done these studies over the span of a couple days, and then there was no activity for about half a week. After that, it was normal browsing. For a little while.

“Aw yeah, now we're talking,” said Lindsey with a grin. “Pictures of dudes.”

That's exactly what they were. Pictures of dudes, most with their shirts off.

“Gross, she was looking at this stuff at school?” asked Caitlin.

As Lindsey went through the links, even she quickly began to feel squeamish. A lot of the photos had a bondage theme, with guys being tied up. Some of it looked quite rough. A central theme was choking, which was present in almost every picture.

“Wh-what the...” said Alicia, putting her hands over her eyes. “What the heck is this?”

“It's porn,” said Caitlin.

“Well duh, I know that, but...” said Alicia. She paused uncertainly. “I mean, IS IT?”

“Yeah. Some people are into stuff like this,” said Lindsey, clicking on the next pic and shaking her head. “Looks like she's the one who needs counseling.”

“Now Lindsey, we shouldn't judge her,” said Alicia weakly, “There are l-lots of different lifestyles, and we should be open to...open to...”

“Open to them whether we cover our eyes or not,” said Caitlin.

“Yes, exactly.”

Suddenly, they heard the doorknob turn. Lindsey quickly closed the browser and stood up as it swung open. The girls were already getting their prepared excuses for their presence ready, but as it turned out, the intruder was not a teacher. It was Melissa C.

“Oh, hey, you guys,” she said, surprised.

“Uh, h-hi, Melissa C.!” piped Alicia. “What are you doing here?”

“I came by to see if Miss Cha was around. She's been helping me with my, y'know, all the shit I've been dealing with trying to catch up on everything,” said Melissa C. “What about you guys?”

“Well, uh, we've been...” said Caitlin, “It turns out Miss Cha disappeared, so we're...”

Melissa C. understood instantly. “You think it has something to do with Chase leaving.”

The three cheerleaders were struck silent for a moment, staggered by Melissa C.'s direct hit. “No, that's not it at all,” said Alicia finally. “We're just worried about Miss Cha.”

Melissa C. frowned at them. She walked into the room, picked up a coffee cup Miss Cha left behind, and looked at the picture of Garfield printed on it. As she did so effortlessly, the senior impressed an air of maturity upon them. “Come on, you guys. You don't expect me to believe that, do you? I didn't believe that crap about Chase's disappearance and I don't believe this. I may not know her as well as you all do, but I know her better than the other girls on the squad, and I know that's just not like her.”

“We were caught by surprise too, Melissa C.,” said Lindsey.

“I bet you were, the way you've been scurrying around, worried sick,” said Melissa C. She set down the mug and put a hand on her chest. “Let me help. Let me in on this. I want to help find Chase. You know I'll be a big help.”

“I'm sure you would, but...” hesitated Alicia.

“Is it something about her?” asked Melissa C. “There's something about Chase you don't want me to know, isn't there? I know she's not exactly normal.”

It took them a bit too long to answer that, and they were sure their pause must have answered Melissa C.'s question better than they could. “It's not that we don't trust you,” said Alicia. “It's not that Chase wouldn't trust you. She would. But...” She knew Melissa C. would not be fooled by a lie. She also knew Melissa C. would potentially be very hurt by one. It would be an insulting thing, to keep pretending nothing was wrong when Melissa C. was so obviously not buying it. So Alicia tried to think of a way to tell the truth while still not revealing anything important.

“But...” she said, “We're still trying to find out the truth ourselves. Like Lindsey said, this whole thing caught us by surprise. And the truth could be something really sensitive. Something that could hurt Chase if it got out.” She met Melissa C.'s eyes with her own. Were they one of the parts of her that were mechanical? Alicia knew there was still some organic matter in her. They certainly looked real. “We're just trying to keep this really close until we know exactly what's going on. Do you know what I mean?”

Melissa C. stared at her for a while, then sighed and nodded. “Sure. I get it. But I really do want to help Chase.” Then, she gave Alicia a firm look. “I need you to tell me that once it's safe for me to get involved, you'll let me know. No excuses. I need you to promise me that.”

After a moment's hesitation, Alicia nodded. “Y-yes. Of course I will.”