The cool breath of the late summer night brushed against Maya's face as she hurried down Mariner's Rest's deserted Main Street, her heart hammering in her chest. The football game's cheers had faded, replaced by an unsettling silence punctuated only by the rhythmic crash of waves against the distant shore. Her encounter with Mark had left her shaken, but a burning determination fueled her steps. She had to find the source of the crimson, black, and silver necklace.

A beacon of light cut through the encroaching darkness — "Mermaid's Trove," a quaint jewelry store nestled amongst boarded-up shops and flickering streetlights. The window display glittered with trinkets and charms, a stark contrast to the town's gloomy atmosphere. Hope flickered within Maya.

Pushing open the creaky door, she was greeted by a tinkling chime and a young woman with dark skin, gray to purple hombre hair, and a bright smile. The woman, wearing dangling seashell earrings and a shimmering beaded necklace stood barely older, and slightly shorter than Maya herself, and was arranging bracelets in a glass case, her fingers moving with practiced ease.

"Hey, can I help you?" she asked, her smooth voice radiating a friendliness Maya desperately craved.

"Just a question, if you don't mind," Maya stammered, clutching the necklace tightly in her hand. It felt hot against her palm, radiating a sense of unease.

The woman's smile softened as she leaned closer, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Sure, anything for a customer, especially this close to closing time," she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

Taking a deep breath, Maya held out the necklace. "Do you recognize this?"

The woman's eyes widened in recognition. "Whoa, that's . . . that's something else," she breathed, her voice tinged with a touch of awe. "Yeah, I definitely remember it."

Relief washed over Maya, replaced by a frantic anticipation. "Do you know if Arilla Pond, one of the students here, bought it?" she asked, unable to mask the desperate edge in her voice.

The woman shook her head. "Oh, you knew Arilla?" Her brief smile faded for a second, but when it returned, it seemed sad. "It wasn't her. She was in here all the time, but she tended to stick to simple stuff, like earrings."

Stolen novel; please report.

Maya's heart sank.

"It's sad, what happened to her," the woman continued. "Nothing good ever comes from visiting that town, is all I'm saying. Bridgeport might be cute, but spooky, too. Bad stuff always happens there."

Maya ignored the jab against Bridgeport. After all, she had no prior connection to that place until only a week ago. But the woman didn't know that. For now, one question burned in her mind. "You knew Arilla?" she pressed, her voice a thin thread.

"Not well. She was a regular, but kept to a small circle," the woman explained. "Seemed nice enough. She liked to go to bars, and go to karaoke, even though she was under age. Nobody really questioned it, or if they did, they didn't care. Perks of living in a small town where everyone knows each other."

"But you said she didn't buy the necklace," Maya said, desperation creeping into her voice. "So, who did?"

The woman behind the counter hesitated, a strange expression flitting across her face. "I remember," she said slowly. "It wasn't anyone from around here. He was a boy, from Bridgeport, by the look of him. Said he was getting it for his girlfriend, someone who went to Mariner's Rest."

The world spun around Maya. A boy from Bridgeport? A gift for his girlfriend in Mariner's Rest? The revelation hit her with the force of a rogue wave. The trail was veering in a terrifyingly familiar direction.

With a shaky hand, Maya pushed the necklace across the glass counter. "Do you remember what he looked like?"

Maya's heart hammered against her ribs, each beat echoing the frantic pulse in her ears. For a chilling moment, she was sure the woman would describe Mark. But if the boy from Bridgeport had purchased the necklace for his girlfriend, the implications were even more sinister.

The woman paused, her brow furrowing in concentration. Then, a flicker of recognition sparked in her eyes. "Tall, athletic build, that sandy blond hair a lot of those Bridgeport guys seem to have," she said, her voice picking up speed. "And the cocky walk, you know the type. Had that Mariner's Rest football letterman jacket, big red 'Kraken' on the back."

A wave of nausea washed over Maya. Her hand flew to her mouth, stifling a gasp.

"And his eyes," the woman continued, her voice taking on a strange, almost fearful tone. "Bright blue, but . . . something about them wasn't right. Like they could see right through you, but in a bad way."

"Thank you," Maya managed to choke out, her voice thick with shock and a growing sense of betrayal. She turned and stumbled out of the shop, the tinkling of the door chimes mirroring the shattering of her illusions.

Maya's head spun. The necklace, the secretive visits to Mariner's Rest — the evidence was mounting, painting a picture of a darkness she hadn't wanted to acknowledge. Alex. It all pointed towards Alex.