Chapter 1

CHARLIE SPRINGS

Charlie Springs needed something to do.

Like, right about now.

Without the usual controlled chaos of running the SFPU —predictable unpredictability, as she'd called it— she was beginning to go stir crazy.

The beginning of NYTE had given her an outlet for her energy, and she had wound up pulling an accidental all-nighter when she had hyper-focused on tracking down as much information as she could on Ashley's murder, going down rabbit hole after rabbit hole on Muse. Profiles, comment sections, news outlets. Even those whose profiles set off every red flag Charlie knew of for questionable reliability. Anything for a crumb of information. There wasn't much, and everything she'd found she had already known.

Not even Waverwell News had anything new for her.

Only when her laptop warned her of its low battery yet again did Charlie stop. In accusing red writing, it told her it only had one percent left.

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered, scooping her laptop up from her bed and dropping it onto her desk to jam in the cord. "You need to be charged, I get it."

She flopped back onto her bed with a sharp exhale, running her hands up her face until her fingers could tug at her hair. The springs in it squeaked until she settled, and a pillow fell to the ground, but she didn't bother picking it up. She kicked away snarled blue sheets when the lumps dug into her legs. Why should she make her bed when it was just going to get ruined the next time she lay down in it?

Maybe it's time for a haircut, Charlie thought as she pulled a few strands down. The ends were almost at her nose.

There were surely enough videos and how-to articles on Muse, and it would occupy her for a few hours if she pushed it. The only downside was that she hadn't cut hair before and didn't have any of the special scissors, and she knew she wouldn't be able to find someone in Moonfall.

Larson Hotch had told them all to stay in the camp. They'd be protected there, in his words. Whoever murdered Ashley knew what they were doing, and it was clear they'd have no hesitation about doing it again.

Charlie hadn't seen the crime scene, but she had seen Ashley's body, and that was enough for her. Anyone and everyone responsible even in the slightest was a monster down to their very core.

We can protect ourselves, she had fought back. I'm sure they're dangerous, but we're the SFPU. We might not have the resources like you and everyone at the Precincts do, but we can protect ourselves. We're the ones who bring you the offenders hunting in Silverlight Forest.

Larson had offered a sad smile.

I know you all can protect yourselves. But the criminals you take down in Silverlight Forest are not like the criminals in the cities. Whoever murdered your friend is far worse. Would you rather have that little house spider hiding in the corner of your bathroom come after you or that prowling wolf lurking in the bushes just outside your door? I don't know who murdered your friend, but whoever they are, they are the worst of the worst. The safest place for you, Charlie Springs, and everyone else in the Silverlight Forest Protection Unit, is in your camp. Take all the time you need to rest. I cannot imagine how hard the loss of your friend is. If there is anything I can do, please do not hesitate to reach out.

Charlie had held her tongue despite the bubbling urge to utter some snarky response. In her heart, she knew he was right. The poachers and offenders who went after the wildlife could be dangerous. Very dangerous. But what had happened to Ashley was beyond anything she had seen before. She didn't need to know everything about Ashley's murder to know that.

A low sigh rumbled in Charlie's throat as she twirled a lock of hair around a finger. She stretched out on her bed, pointing her toes with a groan.

She just needed something to do. Something that would capture her interest enough to trigger her hyper-focus and she could forget about the pain of losing Ashley.

Charlie rolled over onto her stomach, pulling a pillow out from beneath the twisted sheets to tuck beneath her chin.

Feelings were hard. They could bring someone to the top of the world and then drop them until they felt like they had nothing left. Feelings were a double-edged sword. So good, yet also so bad.

It was easier to just feel nothing. Work, work, work so there was no time for those pesky feelings. Go, go, go, and never slow down.

Hyper-focus was the perfect fix; Charlie wouldn't be aware of anything other than what held her attention at that moment in time. The only trouble was that she didn't know what would trigger it, what would suck her in.

"Let's go find something, then," she grumbled, sitting up and running her hands through her hair.

xxxx

Ferris was lounging on the couch when Charlie left her room and walked into the kitchen, typing away on his laptop. Charlie crept across the floor and leaned over his shoulder.

"What'cha workin' on, Dipper?" she asked. When he didn't flinch, she frowned, scowling at the back of his head. He never seemed to get startled, much to Charlie's chagrin.

"If you want to startle me, I'd recommend not having such heavy steps. Opening your door quieter would help, too." A smile played across Ferris's face.

"I'll have to try that next time." Charlie hopped over the back of the couch and curled up on the cushion next to Ferris. "But, actually, what are you workin' on?"

"I'm transcribing the entries from Ashley's journal so I can print them out and we can write on them and see them all side-by-side. And so we can ensure nothing happens to Ashley's journal, even accidentally. Kristin would be... I can't think of words that would describe his anger. And I'd never be able to forgive myself." Ferris reached down by his side and pulled up the journal. A ruler wedged just far enough into the spine to remain lodged in held the pages open.

She hummed. "Probably a good idea." Charlie knew she would never get over that guilt either; she would have harmed something so important to her friend that couldn't be replaced. Even if Ashley was still alive, there was no going to the store to buy another journal. It went far beyond that.

"What have you been doing?" Ferris turned to face Charlie a little more fully.

The dishwasher hummed, starting the next portion of its cycle. Water sloshed against the dishes, and Charlie stared at the spot on the countertop just above it for several long moments until the novelty of the sound wore off and she could tune it out to give Ferris more attention than the dishwasher, not equal.

"Not too much." She shrugged. "I might go walk around in the Forest for a bit. I'm getting antsy just being stuck in the camp."

"Larson Hotch said to stay in here."

"I know that, Dipper. I'm just tired of being cooped up. I need some sort of normal thing to happen." Charlie groaned, leaning back against the couch and rubbing at her eyes with the heels of her palms. "Maybe a supply run. We're getting low on food, aren't we?"

"It's getting delivered tomorrow morning, courtesy of the Moonfall Precinct. They're paying, too. I sent them the shopping list a few hours ago, but if you need anything it's probably not too late."

Charlie sat up, all but gaping at Ferris, who offered a sympathetic smile. "Really?" She sighed, hunching over to cradle her chin in her hands. "There goes that."

"Hopefully it won't be for too much longer, and then we can figure out whatever new normal we will have. We'll continue piecing together what Ashley was figuring out, and we will follow it wherever it takes us."

"Yeah, like NYTE was created for."

Ferris nodded. "Exactly."

Charlie knew it was true. The normal the SFPU had been in was gone; it died the second Ashley took his last breath. NYTE was a way to honor him. To feel a little closer to him; Ashley had felt that he was onto something important. The least the SFPU could do was continue that.

NYTE, Charlie thought. Now You Tell Everyone.

So far, all that had been achieved was reading through the entirety of Ashley's journal and scouring his room for anything else he might've hidden. There was a box buried beneath clothes under Ashley's bed that held a collection of books, most of which were about mining and Spider Ridge. One was a partial list of everything brought out of the mines in Spider Ridge in the last ten years. Even without the complete list, it was a massive book, one Charlie thought must've been one of the heaviest in Waverwell. Maybe not really all that big of an exaggeration. She wondered how Ashley had managed to get his hands on it.

Zip had taken the book into his room to have his computer sort through the data and see if he could figure out what exactly Ashley was looking for.

Kristin had taken the rest of the books to his own room to read through.

Ren had left for the dogs' house to check on Morpheus and run through some training exercises with Somnus and Pyxis.

Ferris had settled down on the couch with Ashley's journal to copy every entry.

But Charlie had locked herself in her room.

So much for telling everyone everything when she couldn't even block out what she was feeling enough to be able to function and honor her murdered friend by continuing his work.

Charlie sighed, drawing her legs up onto the couch.

Ferris's hand over hers snapped her from her thoughts. Her head jerked up. "Wh-what?"

"You were scratching at your fingers."

"Oh. Was I?" She looked down, and, sure enough, she saw little crescents of red on her skin not covered by Ferris's hand.

Ferris nodded. "Yes, you were."

"Well, thanks, I guess."

"You're welcome."

Charlie looked down at where Ferris's hand was still covering both of hers, and a weak smile lifted the corner of her mouth. Despite how hollow she felt, she couldn't help but say, "Dipper, quick question: Any reason your hand is still here?"

Ferris flushed scarlet, color creeping up the back of his neck and blanketing his ears. He ripped his hand back like it had been burned. "I-I-. Uh, s-sorry."

Charlie laughed. "Don't be. I was just teasing you. You turn bright pink, Dipper. You know that?"

"Yeah, yeah," he murmured, setting his laptop on the coffee table and Ashley's journal next to it. His eyes flickered back to Charlie a couple of times as he shifted on the couch, angling his body away from her and bringing his elbow to rest on his knee, chin on his fist.

Charlie slung an arm over his shoulder as she leaned in close, pressing her side to his. "Dipper, Dipper, Dipper," she said. "I was just teasin'. No need to feel embarrassed or somethin'. It's cool for me to touch you, right? Don't wanna be invading your personal space and all that if you're not cool with it."

"I... uh, it's-. It's fine."

"Ok, cool." Charlie took a breath. "You know that I always say something if I'm at all uncomfortable, right?"

"Yeah." Ferris nodded, glancing back. He fiddled with his fingers. "Never give an inch, in your words."

"Exactly. Give an inch, and they'll take a mile. Speak up before they speak for you. Decide what you want so they can't make the choice on your behalf." Charlie paused for a moment before continuing. "Since you know that, I'm sure you can figure out that you touching me didn't make me uncomfortable."

"I know," Ferris started. "I... I, well. It was kinda..."

"Kinda intimate?" Charlie finished for him, rising up so she was crouching on her knees.

Ferris flushed again, and he cleared his throat loudly. Charlie wanted to poke his cheek and feel what she guessed would be burning heat coming from his skin, but she resisted; he was already shifting in place, and she didn't want to push it too far.

"Y-yeah," he ground out, wringing his fingers.

"I'm a pretty touchy feely person, Ferris," Charlie said, leaning forward to look him in the eye, voice devoid of any lightheartedness. Ferris looked away, but she placed her hand on his cheek to make him meet her gaze. "And if I ever don't want someone touching me, I will make sure they know. You don't need to worry about making me uncomfortable, because I will always let you know. I won't let someone get an inch on me. Alright?"

Ferris searched her eyes, and she stared back. "Ok," he said, seeming to have found whatever it was that he was looking for. "Alright, Charlie."

"Alright," she echoed, dropping back onto the couch. "Glad we got that figured out."

Ferris hummed in reply, and he returned to his laptop, lifting it from the coffee table as he settled back against the couch and putting Ashley's journal next to him, ruler still securely wedged in the spine.

Charlie pulled her legs to her chest, chin on her knees. She stared at the front door to the house. It loomed in front of her, simultaneously so innocent and so menacing. How could something so simple, just a slab of wood, convey such emotion? Come across in such a threatening way?

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

She wondered if the last time Ashley walked through it he had any sense that he would never do so again.

She looked out the window, gaze carefully averted from the door.

She didn't want to know if Ashley knew.

xxxx

They were silent for several long minutes, and the quiet clung to them and every surface in a heavy but tolerable way. Noticeable but bearable, not too much.

"I miss him too, you know," Ferris murmured. He didn't lift his eyes from his computer screen.

Charlie turned her head to look at him before dropping her gaze to her hands. "I know you do." She couldn't help the bite her words had, and she instantly regretted it. She dug her nails into her palms.

"I know that, too."

"How the hell are you so calm right now?" Charlie grabbed a pillow as something inside her bubbled up and overflowed. She gripped it and hugged it to her stomach, squeezing as hard as she could. But that wasn't enough. It couldn't take the edge off of whatever was boiling in her gut. Some baying demon frothing at the mouth. She thrust the pillow into her lap, pummeling it with her fists. The fabric was soft against her skin, and it gave her no resistance. No friction. No bite. No sting of flesh against knotted string, sequins, buttons. Nothing to take the edge off of the demon in her gut. Nothing to quell the hurricane tearing through her insides.

She punched the pillow harder, gritting her teeth with a sharp hiss.

It wasn't enough.

She didn't hear Ferris closing his laptop and setting it on the coffee table, followed by Ashley's journal.

"Charlie," he murmured when she hunched over the pillow, "talk to me, please. What can I do? What would you like? Advice, space, or a listening ear?"

"I don't know," she grumbled, crossing her arms over her head to grasp at her knees. Her breaths were sharp pants.

"No, don't hurt yourself," Ferris said, gently prying her fingers from her skin before bringing his hands back to his lap.

"How the hell are you this calm?" Charlie asked again, voice muffled by the pillow's fabric.

Ferris didn't reply, and he was quiet long enough for Charlie to look up, concerned that she may have overstepped.

An apology for something she wasn't entirely sure what was on her tongue when Ferris spoke. "How much do you know of my past?" His voice was careful, each syllable measured.

Charlie shrugged. "Not much. Only what you've said. Never bothered lookin' into your guys's pasts cuz I figured you'd tell me if you wanted me to know. Trust you guys to give me the same."

"That's not what I was getting at, and I think you know that."

Charlie gave an intentional sheepish smile. "Guilty as charged."

Ferris huffed a chuckle, leaning forward with his forearms on his knees. He stared out the window, a distant look falling over his face.

"I lost my parents a little over a year ago," he said, not moving his eyes from whatever he was focusing on, if anything.

Charlie froze. "God. I'm so sorry." She wasn't sure the words held any real weight, but she didn't know what else she could say. No amount of I'm sorry's would ever lessen that pain.

"They died in a car crash. Another driver lost control and hit them. My parents were killed on impact, but the driver of the other car walked away. It was a complete accident. Every law was followed, the driver wasn't under the influence and neither were my parents. Everyone was in their own lane until the driver hit a puddle wrong and spun out of control. Freak accident, as it was called. They didn't suffer, but I don't know how much mercy that really offered. The end result was the same: dead."

"I'm so sorry," Charlie repeated. "I'm sure they were wonderful people."

Ferris nodded, running a hand through his hair with a sharp exhale. He glanced back for a brief second. "Yeah, Springs, yeah they were. Their names were Toby and Tony. Toby and Tony Dipper. Best parents I could've asked for."

"You have any favorite memories? I don't really know what to say, but I'm sure they were great parents. No pressure to share if you don't want to. I'm not gonna force you to do anything you don't want to."

Ferris hummed. "I know you won't." He took a breath. "Well, there are a bunch. One that comes to mind is from when I was little. How long ago? Well... Yeah, it was many years ago. I was, maybe, five or six. Not toddler, but still very little."

Charlie didn't break Ferris's silence. She just sat and listened, afraid that if she said anything it would break whatever moment they were in.

"My parents both worked full time. They were machine operators in Cloverleaf and helped process everything that was brought out of the mines in Spider Ridge. Coal, iron, that type of thing. I never really knew the details because I was young and they didn't tell me everything, but it was hard work. But they always found time for me. I knew they were tired and the hours could be long, but they always had the biggest smiles and always spent time with me, no matter how exhausted they were. And every weekend we'd do something together. Sometimes it was small, just a picnic at a park. Sometimes, when they had the money, it was bigger. A trip to the museum, the zoo. One time we rode Waverwell Trainline all the way to Corville, spent the day walking around, and then rode it all the way back. I sat with my face pressed as far into the window, just staring at the scenery as the train passed it by.

"But the best weekend was one we spent at home. I was really into fairies at the time. My six-year-old brain didn't like the twinkly little creatures with butterfly wings and wands, it wanted the warriors lurking in the forests with their wily ways and snake tongues, casting trickster magic spells. I'd found a book in the library about supernatural creatures, and I devoured it. Faster than Ashley probably ever read, if that's even possible. But the page on fairies stuck with me. Gave fun facts like fairies have wings, they can cast magic spells, they're afraid of iron and whatnot, but it also said that not all were those twinkly grain-of-rice-sized pretty fairies— some were those warriors I was so drawn to.

"I talked about fairies all the time, and my parents knew I loved them. So, one weekend, they decided we were going to stay home. It was a surprise, what we were going to do." Ferris huffed a laugh, sucking on his teeth with a distant smile before continuing. "See, my parents would tell me what the plans were going to be. A sort of incentive, I guess. Get your schoolwork and chores done so we can have more time together on the weekend type thing. But they didn't mention anything about that weekend, no matter how much I pestered them. It's a surprise, was all they would say. I got my homework done that Friday in record time. Don't think I ever came close to getting it done that fast ever again.

"And then, that Saturday morning, my parents pulled out this big box of supplies they'd been collecting. Said we were going to turn the house into a fairy kingdom. I became King Ferris of Dipperlandia. My parents were the head warriors and defenders of Dipperlandia. Our dog, Tory, became my trusty steed. We created costumes. Turned old pieces of fabric and a random assortment of frills, buttons, and scraps into fairy clothing and armor. We stretched thin silks across rigid wire for wings. I stabbed my thumb on a needle while sewing together my chest plate and left a massive bloodstain on it." Ferris chuckled, rubbing where Charlie guessed the wound had been. "My parents thought I'd ruined the costume, although they were, of course, far more worried about me and if I was ok. I just laughed it off and said that a true king would've proven himself in battle to show he was worthy of leading his country and knew the true cost of war, however necessary it might've been said to be.

"It was the best weekend I could've asked for. We decorated the house to make our Dipperlandia with fallen branches, pinecones, scrap rocks from the mines. We went on missions. Chased out imaginary foes. Drew symbols in the carpet to cast magical spells. It was little kid me's dream. It's one of the best memories I have of my parents. Tory, too. She was an old dog Toby found on the streets, and he brought her home. It was supposed to just be for a few days while we tried to find her owner, and then, if we didn't, a shelter. We didn't really have the money for a dog, but Toby couldn't find a shelter he felt would offer her the right care she needed and he knew older dogs were less likely to get adopted than younger ones, so we made it work. Toby couldn't just let someone else struggle. If there was anything he could do, he would do it. My parents got into a bunch of fights over Toby's willingness to give.

"In Tony's words, helping was great. He explained as much to me— help when you can, even if it's just a little. But he also stressed the need for balance; take time for yourself. You can't pour from an empty cup. Don't let the help you offer negatively impact yourself. Don't let donating cash keep you from paying bills. Don't let donating clothes and supplies keep you from staying warm and having enough for your own needs.

"They gave me a lot of life lessons. They kept them fun, too. Felt learning would stick more if it was fun." Ferris chuckled. "They weren't wrong. I barely remember my classes at whatever Cloverleaf school I went to. Don't even remember the name. But I remember so many of their lessons. Small ones about tying shoes or brushing hair. Shaving your face when I started to grow what Toby affectionately called that little hairy caterpillar you call a mustache. And bigger ones about sharing, being kind, not judging anyone for things they cannot control. And also how to drive a car. Tony taught me to drive. His first lesson was to always find the brake pedal, because, in his words, that's the Do-Not-Hit-Anyone Button. Know where that is and keep it working just fine, and you won't hit anyone.

"That lesson hurt more when I lost them. It made me laugh at the time, which I think was his goal because I was so nervous. Never thought I'd lose them like that. But I also didn't have a way I thought I'd lose them in. Guess no one ever really thinks of how their loved one will die. No one ever wants to say goodbye. No one really even knows how."

"No one ever does," Charlie murmured. How can someone say goodbye to a loved one, a friend, someone they cared about? She didn't want to let go of Ashley. The world felt so empty. He was one of her closest friends, and she couldn't imagine the rest of her life without his massive smiles and the way his face twisted as he tried to hold back his crowing laughter when he pulled yet another one of his pranks on her. How he would double over, holding onto his stomach with both arms as he cried streams of tears. How things just felt like they would be ok when he slung an arm over her shoulders and pulled her in for a side hug. How his shoes seemed to sprout wings when he bolted for the ball in Ultimate Ballgame and how the front of his shirt would be streaked with green and brown from skidding across the grass because he just couldn't let his team lose.

"I... I'm sorry. I just talked a whole lot." Ferris sighed.

"Hey," Charlie said. "I'm, like, the last person who's gonna comment on talking a lot or a little. Have you heard me when I get into a conversation." Ferris hummed, nodding his head with a smile. "Yeah, I thought so. Not gonna get any judgement from me, Dipper. Besides, seems like you kinda needed someone to listen, and I'm happy to do that."

Ferris bumped his shoulder into hers, and she leaned into the touch. "Thanks, Springs."

"You're welcome. Your parents sound like they were wonderful people. They raised you right."

"They really did." Ferris ducked his head, running his palms over the back of his neck. He kept contact with Charlie, and she pressed into it. After the stress of the weeks after Ashley's murder, the comfort of touch felt amazing. Something to keep her from getting so caught up in the feelings that threatened to arise that she couldn't tell up from down.

"How else could you be such a gentleman?" Charlie teased. True to her prediction, Ferris flushed scarlet and he jerked his head away, clearing his throat loudly as he choked on a breath.

"I-I..." he started but was unable to finish his sentence.

"It's true, you know. You're far better than some of the sleazy creatures they call boys that went to the school my parents enrolled me in as a kid. A lovely cesspool of teenaged organisms in the middle of Corville filled with a bunch of stuck-up, snobby, entitled brats who think that just cuz their parents bought them the latest fancy car and the newest phone and filled their closest with designer brands that they could get whatever they wanted. Some of those boys, Dipper? They were creeps. Dirtbags. Caught them lurking outside the girl's bathroom more times than I'd care to count. Knelt down by the lockers for far longer than it would take a fingerless monkey to figure out how to tie a shoe in hopes of catching a glimpse up a girl's skirt. Damn dress code required skirts. Not that I ever listened, of course. Pants are the way to go. They never tried anything on me, though. Probably because they knew I'd break their arm the second they did. But they were really rather gross. Never could figure out how their clothes managed to stay so pristine with their slimy personalities. Made me want to vomit, and I basically have an iron stomach. You're actually kinda like a gentleman. Just, minus the horse drawn carriage and posh lifestyle."

Ferris laughed. "No horse drawn carriages for me. But I'm sure you would've broken their arm the second their fingertips got anywhere near you."

"Hell yeah, I would've. I didn't want any of their skin cells on me. I might've caught something. Ew." Charlie grimaced, though a smile tugged at her lips. "So glad I graduated. Didn't want to spend another second in that godforsaken place. Glad I finally got up the nerve to leave Corville. Had a bag packed for months under my bed. Just had to actually leave."

Ferris was quiet for a time. He stared out the window with a thoughtful expression, so still he looked frozen. "What did your parents think of you leaving?" he finally asked.

Charlie scoffed. She could picture how that conversation would go, and she would've rather eaten live scorpions than sit down for that. "Never asked," she said. "Just left. Pretty sure they were absolutely pissed cuz I got like a dozen letters a few days later."

"They're alive?"

"As far as I know. But they're not really alive to me and I've never bothered to check. No offense to you."

"None taken. Not everyone has a good relationship with their parents, unfortunately."

"Not a good relationship is about the understatement of the century. If asked, my parents would probably say we had a wee tad of a disagreement or something, but it's far, far, far beyond that. It was coming for years, if I'm being honest. Years of arguments, snarky comments, petty behavior, backhanded compliments.

"I left the house during the night without telling them anything. In hindsight, I probably should've said something, but I was angry and didn't feel they needed to know. Didn't feel they deserved it. I just wanted to get out of there."

Charlie sighed.

She remembered the day like it was yesterday.

After yet another massive fight, she was exhausted and past furious.

It had been building up for the past week. Little nit-picky comments from her mother. How she was dressed so casually in pants and a T-shirt, how she was acting like a spoiled child, how she wasn't sitting like a proper young woman, how she wasn't behaving like a good little girl at school. Charlie, in all her bubbling frustration, hadn't helped; she had given snarky retorts right back, going blow for blow with her mother until they had reached a breaking point and exploded. Her father taking her mother's side had only added to the broiling anger churning in Charlie's gut and the yawning void of the betrayal she felt. After a screaming match and Charlie shattering a lamp as she tried to get her parents to see what she knew to be the truth, she had stormed off into her room, slamming the door shut hard enough that, looking back, she was surprised it hadn't fallen right off its hinges.

In the middle of the night, she had climbed out her window with her backpack of a change of clothes and notebook and run off into the night, stealing cash from the drawer in her parents' kitchen to buy a train ticket to Moonfall —far away from Corville— and hold her over until she could find a job.

"I don't know how much you heard of my interview with the Moonfall Precinct, but my legal name isn't Charlie Springs." She cast a glance over at Ferris to gauge his reaction, but his face was still, expression impassive, like it had been carved from stone.

He hummed in reply, and Charlie took it as her cue to continue.

"My parents named me Rose Hendricks." She swallowed down the bile that rose in her throat, but she couldn't help the involuntary squirm when she said the name out loud. Her face twisted. "Once I got my head out of the sand and figured out that I didn't have to be their perfect little Rose, I knew I hated it. The name wasn't mine. Wasn't me. You'll never catch me in a dress again. Never see me sitting quietly like an attractive little lamp. Never see me offer a pretty smile I don't want to give. I'm not gonna be that stereotypical housewife who runs the home and raises a family of perfect little kids while the husband does all the work. Narrow view that completely overlooks what a woman can do. They couldn't accept that I didn't want that life. I mean, how could they if they couldn't even accept that I didn't want to wear dresses and heels? Can you imagine me in heels? I'd break an ankle, and I like mine intact, please and thank you."

Ferris smiled. "No, I can't imagine you in a dress and heels. Kristin? Yeah, I could see him in a dress, maybe heels. You? No. More of a suit and tie type of person?" He turned his head to meet her gaze.

Charlie pursed her lips. "You know... I never actually wore any fancy clothes apart from the times my parents managed to stuff me in one of their frilly monstrosities they called a dress. Don't really see the point, if I'm being honest. Shorts and a T-shirt will work for almost any occasion, so why spend the extra money on something you'll wear, like, three times max at the risk of it getting stained and having to fork over another boatload of cash just to get it clean again? But I suppose I'd just go for a button down and slacks. Shirt-and-pants evolved edition."

"Always were one for practicality."

"Why waste money on something that you're not going to use? Using it once doesn't count. Gotta use it a bunch to get its money's worth. I worked hard for those Corvilles. Wanna spend them on something that I'll actually use. Fancy clothes aren't gonna cut it— no way I'm gonna wear them when hunting down poachers. Can you imagine running through the Forest in a ballgown? Like, those ones that have that really long train. Imagine stilettos, too. Gonna snap your ankle clean in half." Charlie made a slashing motion with her hand at her foot.

Ferris rolled his eyes. "Yeah, no way."

Charlie opened her mouth to reply. Give another joking, sarcastic response that would force the roaring hurricane of feelings to subside. Lay low for just a little bit. Numb the pain enough that she felt she might be ok.

But she never did.

Kristin barged out of his room, swinging open his door hard enough that it slammed into the wall. His footsteps were heavy against the floorboards.

Charlie and Ferris whirled around in unison, and Kristin was nearly sprinting to them. He thrust his laptop into Ferris's arms with trembling hands, and Ferris fumbled with it until it was settled in his lap.

"What am I looking at?" Ferris flipped open the lid. The screen was blank.

Kristin leaned over the back of the couch and reached over to the keyboard. His fingers were shaking so much that he had to type in his password several times before his laptop unlocked.

Charlie wondered when the last time he slept was. She didn't echo her thought out loud.

"Read it!"

Charlie leaned over Ferris's shoulder. "What is it?"

"It's an email." Kristin's voice was high. Like a thread pulled taut, only mere millimeters from being tugged hard enough to snap. Stress was almost visibly dripping from his words.

"I see that," murmured Ferris, craning his head down as he peered at the screen.

Charlie glanced up at Kristin. His face was pale, and his eyes were wide. It was like he'd seen a ghost.

"Read it! Read the email. Someone said they saw Ashley's murder."