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Hannah's footsteps trace endless patterns across David's bedroom carpet, her shadow dancing beneath the blue glow of multiple computer monitors. Each pass feels like another chance to change her mind, to walk away from this precipice they're approaching. The rational part of her brain screams that this is wrong - not just against school rules, but illegal. The kind of wrong that could get them all expelled, maybe worse.
"Are you absolutely certain about this?" David asks, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. The light from his elaborate computer setup catches in his wire-rimmed glasses, making him look younger than his seventeen years. Hannah feels a surge of protectiveness - he might be her nephew, but watching him potentially throw away his future makes her stomach turn.
"We could just forget this whole thing," Hannah says, more to herself than anyone else. "Go back to pretending everything's fine. That's what everyone else does, right?"
"Oh, sweetie." Alex's voice drips with honeyed command from her sprawled position on David's bed. Her combat boots rest on his pillows, dark lipstick curved in that particular smile that seems to short-circuit David's higher brain functions. "Your cousin's been bragging about his hacking skills for weeks."
Hannah watches David practically melt under Alex's attention. It's fascinating and slightly terrifying how this goth queen has her nephew wrapped around her black-painted finger. But then again, it's 2025 - maybe this is what modern relationships look like now.
"David," Hannah starts, but Alex cuts her off.
"David, darling," she purrs, stretching like a particularly dangerous cat. "Show us what that gorgeous brain of yours can do. I promise you'll be properly rewarded."
Hannah tries not to think too hard about what that "reward" might entail as David's demeanor shifts instantly. His shoulders square as he faces his array of monitors, fingers flying across the keyboard with newfound determination.
The next twenty minutes are a masterclass in digital warfare that Hannah can barely follow. Terms like "firewall" and "encryption" and "SSH tunneling" float past her comprehension as David mutters to himself, his screens filling with incomprehensible strings of characters that might as well be ancient Sanskrit.
"This is... actually impressive," David says, genuine surprise coloring his voice. "They've got military-grade encryption on some of these files. Whoever set this up knew what they were doing."
"But you can break it, right baby?" Alex slides from the bed like liquid shadow, her hands finding David's shoulders. "Show us how clever you are."
Hannah watches her nephew's cheeks flush as Alex's dark nails trace patterns on his neck. It's like watching a puppet master at work - every touch precisely calculated for maximum effect.
"I- I mean, yes, but..." David stutters as Alex's lips brush his ear. "It's going to take some time to-"
"Then focus," Alex commands softly. "Break their pretty little system wide open, and maybe..." Her voice drops to a whisper that makes David's hands shake slightly on the keyboard.
More incomprehensible code flows across the screens as David works, his concentration now laser-focused. Hannah can't tell if she's more impressed by his technical skills or Alex's ability to motivate him with nothing but carefully chosen words and strategic touches.
"I'm in," David announces finally, pride and apprehension warring in his voice. "Full access to the administrative database."
"Good boy," Alex practically purrs, and Hannah watches her nephew's ears turn scarlet. "Now, darling, be a sweetheart and fetch us some tea? Your cousin and I need to focus on the data."
"But I should probably supervise-"
"David." Alex's voice carries absolute authority despite its sweetness. "Tea. Now. You've done the hard part beautifully. Let us handle the rest."
They watch him practically trip over himself to comply, his footsteps fading down the hall.
"You've got him trained well," Hannah observes, not quite sure how to feel about this dynamic.
Alex's laugh is dark chocolate and danger. "Oh honey, you have no idea. But he loves every minute of it." She slides into the vacated chair, dark nails hovering over the keyboard. "Now, let's see what secrets Riverside's been hiding, shall we?"
"Ready?" Alex asks, something predatory gleaming in her eyes.
Hannah takes a deep breath, remembering every carefully maintained lie that led them here. "Ready," she says.
Hannah's hands shake slightly as she clicks through Emily's file. The school photo expands across the screen - a girl with knowing eyes and a half-smile. Standard information populates beneath: birth date, enrollment history, vaccination records. But something feels off.
"Her grades were terrible," Hannah mutters, scanning the academic records. "How did she even stay enrolled?"
More details emerge as they scroll: Parents deceased. Foster care placement. Relocation to Seattle. But when Hannah clicks the contact information tab, she finds nothing but blank fields. No forwarding address, no phone numbers, no emergency contacts.
"Try Megan," Alex suggests, her dark nails drumming against the desk.
Megan Carter's file looks more complete at first glance. Good grades, active in student government, college counseling notes marking her as "promising." Transfer papers show her move to Brookswood High, but the reason field simply reads "Personal - Administrative Approval."
Victoria Reynolds's records tell a similar story - middling grades, standard family information, another mysterious transfer to Brookswood High with the same cryptic administrative note.
"This is useless," Hannah sighs, frustration building in her chest. "We already knew they transferred. There's nothing here about-"
"Wait." Alex leans closer to the screen, her dark lips curved in concentration. "Look at Emily's page again. Notice anything... odd?"
Hannah switches back to Emily's file, but sees only the same sparse information. "What am I looking for?"
"The background," Alex says, tapping the screen with one black nail. "It's slightly different than the others. Almost like..."
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The sound of ceramic against wood makes them both jump. David stands in the doorway, a tray of steaming mugs in his hands.
"Baby," Alex's voice carries that particular tone that makes David's cheeks flush. "Come look at this. Tell me what you see."
David sets down the tea and peers at the screen, pushing his glasses up with careful precision. "The background color... it's about two shades lighter than the standard template." His eyes narrow as he leans closer. "That's not right. The system shouldn't have any variation unless..."
"Unless what?" Hannah asks, her heart speeding up.
"Break it," Alex commands softly, her fingers trailing across David's shoulders. "Show us what they're hiding behind that pretty façade."
David nods once, and Hannah watches her nephew's hands return to the keyboard. Whatever they're about to uncover, she has a feeling there's no turning back.
His hands move with practiced precision, each keystroke deliberate and sure. She recognizes this focused intensity – it's the same look his sister used to get when she was solving a particularly challenging puzzle. A small window pops up in the corner of the screen, and David's lips curl into a satisfied smile. "Got it," he whispers, and Hannah leans closer as new text begins replacing the sanitized records they'd found earlier.
The screen flickers as new information populates the fields. Same photo, same basic details, but then - Hannah's breath catches in her throat. Where "Relocated to Seattle" once stood, a single word glows with terrible finality:
"Deceased."
"What?" Hannah's voice comes out barely above a whisper. "That's impossible. They told everyone she moved..."
"This is way above my pay grade," David mutters, running nervous hands through his hair. "We're looking at sealed records. If anyone traces this back to my IP..."
"Move," Alex commands, physically guiding him from the chair. Her dark eyes flash with intensity as she pulls Hannah closer. "Let's see what other lies they've buried."
Hannah's fingers feel numb as she scrolls, each new detail hitting her like physical blows. An autopsy report materializes on screen, clinical language describing what happened to a girl who was supposed to be alive in Seattle.
Cause of Death: Cervical fracture consistent with fall from height
Toxicology: Positive for methamphetamine (0.24 mg/L), MDMA (0.15 mg/L)
Blood Alcohol: 0.16%
Location of Discovery: Rear service area, Casino Club, Hampton
Time of Death: Approximately 2:30 AM, August 4th, 2024
"She fell?" Alex's voice carries equal parts skepticism and horror.
Something clicks in Hannah's mind as she pulls out her phone, fingers flying to Instagram. Amber Rosenberg's profile loads - @AmberRosenberg, 12.4k followers, bio reading "@NateBrooks67 since 05.29.20 💍💕". Her feed is a masterclass in social media curation: professional-quality photos of charity galas alternating with perfectly "candid" shots at coffee shops, each one color-coordinated to maintain her signature aesthetic.
Hannah taps through the highlight reels, each one meticulously organized: "Senior Szn 👑", "Summer Memories ☀️", "Fashion Inspo 💅", "Weekend Vibes ✨".
The photos flash past in a blur of designer outfits and practiced poses. Amber at charity galas, Amber cheering at football games, Amber and Nate looking like something from a magazine spread. Then - August 3rd, 2024. A group shot at Hampton Beach, golden hour sun turning the waves behind them to liquid fire. Amber gleams in a white bikini, posed between Nate and Jake on the beach, while Susan lounges on a beach chair. The caption reads "Summer days with my favs 💫". And there, in the corner of the frame, barely noticeable: Emily Thorne, alive and smiling, caught in a moment she didn't know would be her last.
"Look," Hannah thrusts the phone at Alex. "They were all there that night. Every single one of them."
"That doesn't prove anything," Alex says carefully, but her eyes narrow as she studies the photo. "People fall, Hannah. Especially when drugs are involved."
"Is there a police report?" Hannah turns back to David, who's been hovering anxiously near his bed. "There has to be an investigation file, right?"
David lets out a long breath, pushing his glasses up with shaking hands. "You really want to keep digging? This is serious stuff, Hannah. Like, federal crime serious."
"David." She meets his eyes, trying to convey everything she can't say out loud. "Please."
He glances at Alex, who gives an almost imperceptible nod. With visible reluctance, he reclaims his seat at the computer, fingers returning to the keyboard like a pianist approaching a particularly difficult piece.
David's fingers move across the keyboard with frightening efficiency. Hannah holds her breath as multiple windows cascade across the screen, each one bringing them closer to truth - or at least, someone's version of it.
"Got it," David whispers, his voice tight with tension.
The police report materializes in stark black and white:
HAMPTON POLICE DEPARTMENT
CASE FILE #2024-0804-17
INCIDENT TYPE: Accidental Death
STATUS: CLOSED
VICTIM: THORNE, Emily Rose
DOB: 03/15/2006
RESIDENCE: Riverside, MA
INITIAL REPORT:
On August 4, 2024, at approximately 0230 hours, dispatch received anonymous call regarding unconscious female behind Hampton Beach Casino Club. Victim identified as Emily Rose THORNE (18). Pronounced dead at scene by EMT. Multiple witnesses interviewed from gathering at 421 Ocean Drive (WOODLAND residence).
WITNESS LIST:
- WOODLAND, Jacob (17) - Property resident
- BROOKS, Nathaniel (17)
- ROSENBERG, Amber (16)
- CARTER, Megan (18)
- REYNOLDS, Victoria (18)
- LAWRENCE, Susan (16)
Hannah frowns at the screen. "Wait, something's not right. I know Justin, Jeff, Morris, Charlotte, and Lisa were there too - I've seen other photos from that night. Why aren't they on the official witness list?"
"Now that's interesting," Alex leans forward, dark lips curved in concentration. "Why would a police report leave out half the witnesses?"
PRIMARY WITNESSES:
CARTER, M. and REYNOLDS, V. identified as closest associates of deceased. Both provided corroborating statements: Group gathered at WOODLAND residence for social event. Victim observed leaving premises alone approx. 0100 hours. No signs of distress noted.
FINDINGS:
- Toxicology positive for recreational substances
- Cause of death consistent with fall from height
- No signs of struggle or foul play
- All witness statements align with physical evidence
CONCLUSION:
Based on evidence collected and witness testimony, death appears accidental. No suspicious circumstances warranting further investigation. Teenage gathering involving illicit substances led to tragic accident.
CASE STATUS: CLOSED
Detective Sarah Brown
Badge #2241
Hannah stares at the screen, her mind refusing to process what she's reading. "This can't be right," she whispers. "Everyone said she moved to Seattle. If it was just an accident, why create the lie?"
"Exactly." Alex's voice carries a dangerous edge. "Rich kids having a party, one ends up dead - that's already a PR nightmare. But they didn't just keep it quiet. They erased her. Created a whole false narrative about Seattle."
"Look at the witness list again," Hannah says, leaning closer. "Megan and Victoria - they were supposedly her closest friends. And now they're both at Brookswood, completely unreachable."
"The same Megan who nearly had a panic attack when you found her?" Alex's dark nails tap against the desk thoughtfully. "The one who said you had no idea what 'they' would do if she talked?"
A chill runs down Hannah's spine as pieces start clicking together. "If she really just fell, there'd be no reason to threaten anyone. No reason to force Lisa to stop helping me investigate. No reason for all this..." She gestures at the screen. "This elaborate cover-up."
"The question isn't whether she fell," Alex says softly, her eyes fixed on the police report. "The question is whether she fell... or was pushed."
"It was Jake." Hannah's voice cuts through the humming of computer fans, carrying a certainty that surprises even her. "The missing names, the covered-up death, Megan's terror, Lisa's silence..." Her hands curl into fists as memories flash through her mind - Jake's weight pinning her down in that pool house, his carefully maintained smile in school hallways, the way power seems to bend around him like light through expensive crystal.
"The same thing that happened to me at Halloween," she continues, her voice barely above a whisper. "He tried it with Emily too. Only this time..." The words stick in her throat like broken glass.
Alex reaches for her hand, but Hannah's already moving toward the door, her steps carrying newfound purpose. Because now she knows - really knows - what kind of monsters wear letterman jackets and drive luxury cars. The kind that don't just destroy lives, but erase them completely.
And Hannah Marshall is done being afraid of monsters.