“Alna, are you even paying attention?” Marianna asked, a teasing lilt to her voice.

  “Of course I am,” Alna said, tearing her gaze from her phone to meet Mariana’s eyes. Her head rested on Alna’s shoulder, blue eyes glimmering with amusement as she gazed up at Alna with a smile.

  Marianna paused the television, glancing toward the kitchen where the boys were getting themselves a snack. Alna’s parents were taking advantage of the fact that Mom wasn’t on call for once, leaving Marianna and Alna in charge of the boys while they went out to dinner. Considering Alna had made them all supper, and the boys seemed determined to remain in Colton’s room, looking after them had involved little more than being present should something happen.

  When she turned back to Alna, Marianna didn’t look any less amused. It was fitting, Alna supposed. She often wore that look when Marianna did something particularly endearing or funny. Alna should learn to receive such a look as well.

  “I thought you liked this show,” Marianna said, nodding her head toward the television. “Don’t tell me we wasted all that time trying to find one we both like.” Thankfully, she didn’t seem in the least bit annoyed, as some people might have. Indeed, she would have had every right to be annoyed. Alna wasn’t being the most attentive girlfriend right now.

  Feeling chastened, and even more sheepish, Alna lowered her phone to her lap. She gave Marianna an apologetic look.

  “I’m sorry.” She gestured to her phone. “It’s just…”

  Marianna smiled, dimples appearing in her cheeks. “I know. You wanna catch whoever’s stealing stuff. It bothers you that they’re getting away with it. And I love you for that.”

  Reaching up, Marianna grasped Alna’s chin and pulled her down for a kiss. When she pulled back, Marianna was still smiling.

  “But can you please put it away for now?” she requested. “I wanted us to have some couples’ time together.”

  With a nod, Alna pressed a light kiss to Marianna’s forehead. “Of course.” She placed her phone on the coffee table, making sure it was facing down so that it would offer minimal distraction.

  Settling her arm on Marianna’s shoulders, Alna pulled her close and said, “You can start it. I’ll focus now.”

  “Thank you,” Marianna said. She started the show and rested her head on Alna’s shoulder.

  Thirty-two minutes later, the episode ended. At one point, Alna’s phone had vibrated with an alert, which she forced herself to ignore. Even still, despite her promise, Alna’s mind remained elsewhere.

  Once the episode was over, Alna reached for her phone almost immediately. She’d received an alert from her news application. It was possible that it wouldn’t tell her anything useful about her and Marianna’s case, but if there was the slightest chance that it was related to the thefts-turned-murders, Alna wanted to know.

  Hyperaware aware of the fond look Marianna was giving, Alna scanned the title of the article, soon turning on her phone so she could read it in full.

  Cherise Sawyer Hospitalized After Being Attacked in Her Home

  Billionaire Cherise Sawyer was rushed to the emergency room just last night, after being attacked by an unknown assailant…

  Alna scrolled down the article, skimming over it as the details locked themselves in her mind, to be looked at later.

  Stabbed with her own kitchen knife…

  Security cameras disabled…

  Critical condition.

  There. Alna stopped scrolling, taking in the information that confirmed her suspicions: According to her husband, James Sawyer, Cherise’s ruby necklace is now missing, along with a painting––

  Her eyes darted down, searching for more vital information.

  Together, both are worth two and a half million dollars.

  Alna set her phone down, turning to meet Marianna’s curious blue eyes.

  “We’ve got another one,” she said.

  The Sawyer mansion was quite spacious. That was Alna’s first impression. Every room consisted of high ceilings, some with crystal chandeliers hanging from them. The chandelier refracted the sunlight streaming into the current room she and Marianna were searching, throwing small rainbows here and there.

  It was obvious where the painting used to rest. On the far wall, opposite a window that looked taller than Marianna and Alna combined, there was a rectangle, the light blue wallpaper noticeably darker than the rest.

  Alna squinted a bit, leaning forward as she tried to discern any details in the rectangle. The pattern in the wallpaper seemed to resemble waves in a lake, but that wasn’t important––

  “You know, I’ve done some pretty weird things while dating you, but even this seems a little out there.”

  Alna turned to look at the girl sitting next to her. Marianna was staring at Alna’s desk looking both focused and bewildered at the same time.

  Glancing at her laptop, which showed the Sawyers’ living room, Alna smirked a bit. “Please, this is hardly the strangest thing we’ve done. Has breaking and entering become so normal to you that this is what you find bizarre?”

  Marianna tore her gaze from the laptop long enough to give Alna an annoyed look before refocusing her attention. She pointed at the screen.

  “There’s a bloodstain on the wall there,” she said.

  Turning back to the task at hand, Alna followed Marianna’s finger, her eyes landing on the bloodstain in question. With a few keystrokes, she zoomed in, wincing when the image became grainy.

  “Lovely,” Alna muttered. At the same time, Marianna said, “Well, that’s inconvenient.”

  Alna resisted the urge to point out she was stating the obvious. She was annoyed, of course, but taking it out on her girlfriend was hardly prudent.

  Biting her cheek, Alna went about fixing the image, making it somewhat clear. Alna wouldn’t exactly consider herself a computer expert, but she had more experience than, say, the average high school student. It had taken her over two hours to hack into the Sawyers’ security camera. Figuring out the resolution was another matter.

  “I see what you mean,” Alna said, eyes locked on the screen. The bloodstain was spattered on the wall where the painting used to be. It wasn’t big enough to indicate immense blood loss (which Sawyer suffered from), but it was noticeable to even the more unobservant people.

  “Sawyer was standing with the attacker initially, who then stabbed her,” Alna explained. She switched to another camera, which was in a separate corner of the living room. From this angle, Alna had a better view of the upended coffee table and what looked like glass scattered across an expensive carpet.

  If Alna hadn’t had an idea of how much the Sawyers donated to charity, and the scholarships they funded, she might have judged their expensive tastes a bit more harshly. Even so, spending so much on such a thing when one could buy an adequate carpet for fifty dollars seemed pointless to her. Cherise Sawyer was rich, so much so that keeping her family name going had been important to her, according to news articles, and yes, even her own social media postings. The fact that it had been her husband who changed his name when they married was a topic people still liked to discuss and cast judgement on.

  Everyone knew the Sawyers were rich. They didn’t need to buy ridiculously expensive items to remind people of this.

  Shaking these thoughts out of her head, Alna continued, “It is likely Sawyer came in after the attacker had taken the painting down. Going by the location of the blood, I believe she tried to stop them, only to have them turn on her. Or the two of them.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Alna saw Marianna nod. “I can’t see someone pulling this off by themselves.” She gave Alna a playful smile. “Not even you.”

  “It is a bit out of my area of expertise,” Alna said.

  Marianna’s head dropped onto her shoulder. “Just a bit.”

  Alna switched back to the first camera. She focused the image on the bloodstain on the wall. Once she had achieved an image that satisfied her, Alna pulled out her phone and snapped a picture. She frowned at it. The picture on her phone was far from top quality, the lighting turning out rather awkward, but it would have to do.

  Besides, Alna likely wouldn’t need to refer to the picture anyway, what with her steel trap of a mind. She had taken the picture, just in case. Hacking into the Sawyers’ security cameras once was risky enough; Alna had little intention of doing so again.

  “If you recall,” Alna said, putting down her phone and switching to a camera in a hallway, “the assailants turned off the security cameras before making their move.”

  Marianna nodded against her shoulder. “You went over that with me,” she confirmed, sounding indulgent. Considering they had watched the footage (or lack thereof) not that long ago, there was little reason for her to be saying this now.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Sometimes, however, listing details aloud when she couldn’t retreat into her head to examine them could be helpful.

  The hallway displayed on Alna’s laptop was just as decorated as the rest of the mansion. On one wall, a replica of Vincent van Gogh’s Starry Night painting hung over a small table with a vase of flowers settled on top. Beside the table was a trail of fading, bloody footprints headed away from the living room. Just one, but that didn’t mean there had only been one attacker. Perhaps one had dealt with Sawyer while the other dashed off with the painting.

  Alna could picture it. One person snatching Sawyer’s kitchen knife from her, driving it into her side while the other––

  “Alna,” Marianna said, nudging her.

  Blinking, Alna brought herself back to the present, shooting Marianna an apologetic look.

  With a slight smile, Marianna said, “So we’re dealing with some sort of expert, then?”

  “It is a distinct possibility,” Alna confirmed. She bit the inside of her cheek again before sighing in frustration. “This would be much easier if we could go to the Sawyers’ house.”

  “Yeah, good luck with that one,” Marianna said dryly. Alna let out a slight laugh and snapped another picture of her computer screen.

  Alna spent another few minutes looking through the Sawyers’ house with the security cameras before finally closing it down.

  “I believe that is all we are going to glean from that.”

  Marianna held out her hand, and Alna handed over her phone without a word. A dent appeared between Marianna’s brows as she looked through the pictures Alna had taken. With her thumb and pointer finger, Marianna zoomed in on one particular picture. Turning the phone to Alna, Marianna showed her a pixelated image of a bloody footprint. The carpet underneath it was a light cream colour, making the dark red stand out even more.

  “Can you research the company this came from?” Marianna asked, sounding doubtful.

  “Unlikely. There are a few too many stores in Brigate for that.”

  “Didn’t think so,” Marianna said.

  Giving her a comforting look, Alna said, “However, on the bright side, there is someone I would like to look into.”

  Marianna gave her a fondly exasperated look, almost making Alna feel sheepish. “You didn’t think to mention that sooner?”

  Alna gave her a one-shoulder shrug. “I am now.”

  In response, Marianna rolled her eyes and gave her an expectant look.

  “Are you willing to go out of your comfort zone again?” Alna asked with a grin.

  ***

  The two girls held hands as they meandered down the sidewalk, glancing at each other occasionally and making quiet conversation.

  Nothing about them was striking. In fact, it would be quite normal for someone to walk past the duo without giving them a second glance. Which was what they were going for, of course. This time around, she and Marianna had given themselves a day to prepare for this ruse. They had gone to a thrift store, picking out the most innocuous clothing they could find.

  Because this time, blending into the crowd was exactly what they wanted.

  Alna could see Parker Wyatt ahead of them, his brown trench coat just barely visible through the crush of bodies. Around the two girls, people went about their daily business, walking their dogs or hauling six shopping bags to some destination. On Alna’s right, a man walked along briskly, talking to someone on the phone in Spanish.

  “Where do you think he’s going?” Marianna murmured. Alna glanced over at her. The sunglasses Marianna was wearing hid her eyes from Alna’s view, but the wrinkle in her forehead revealed her confusion.

  “Hopefully somewhere significant,” Alna replied. Marianna nodded, and the two lapsed into silence once more.

  Up ahead, Wyatt stopped at a set of lights, the light across the road showing “Don’t walk.” Some people ignored this, cutting in front of a truck. A driver honked at them. Alna thought she heard someone cuss, but with the voices chattering around her, it was difficult to be certain.

  The lights changed and Wyatt resumed walking, oblivious to the two girls following him at a sedate pace.

  Marianna’s hand was sweaty––had been for the last ten minutes. Alna squeezed it reassuringly, earning herself a fleeting smile of acknowledgement.

  It wasn’t as though Alna blamed Marianna for being nervous. In all their times investigating together, they had never stalked someone like this. Alna was under no impression that this was anything else.

  Wyatt was a rather intimidating man, to be fair. Tall and muscled, with his hair cut military style. He was black and quite handsome to some.

  Alna was more concerned if the debt of his student loans had led him to theft and murder. Wyatt didn’t have a criminal record, but from what Alna had gleaned through her research, he stopped by some questionable places.

  Someone bumped into Alna. They didn’t apologize or even acknowledge the action. Alna grimaced, but otherwise ignored the person. Rude or not, they were not important right now.

  Wyatt stopped by a donut shop, making Marianna sigh in exasperation as they found a nearby bench, making themselves comfortable.

  “Do you think this is gonna take long?” Marianna asked, tucking a brown strand behind her ear. They had opted for simple wigs, looking for simple, boring colours at a dollar store. “I’ve gotta work later.”

  “I’m aware of this,” Alna replied calmly. As she spoke, Marianna reached up, tucking some of Alna’s hair back into her simple auburn wig. “I know your schedule well, Marianna. I will not let you be late.”

  Looking mildly surprised, Marianna gave her a bright smile.

  Wyatt remained in the donut shop for seven minutes, exiting with a donut in his hand. He took a bite, squinting up at the bright sky for a moment. Turning on his heel, he continued in the same direction as before.

  Alna counted to twenty and then pulled Marianna up. And thus, they began again.

  Time slipped by, one minute melting into another. Soon, Alna glanced at her phone and realized they had been following Wyatt for over an hour. That was dangerous. The longer they followed him, the more they risked being spotted.

  Not to mention they were wandering farther and farther from home. If Marianna hadn’t had work later, Alna might not have been so concerned, but she was hardly going to let Marianna get fired. Not even to solve a murder. Marianna was already anxious enough about college; she didn’t need to lose her only stable source of income.

  As they walked by a barbershop, Alna leaned down just enough to murmur in Marianna’s ear, “We’ll give it another ten minutes. If nothing happens by then, I’ll call us a cab.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Marianna nod. As they stopped at yet another crosswalk, Marianna sighed in obvious exasperation.

  “Where on earth could he be going? Nobody walks this much around a city.”

  “I am sure we will find out,” Alna replied. She had to disagree, however. She could think of reasons Wyatt would spend the last hour walking through the city: he didn’t own a car and didn’t want to spend money on public transportation. That he had done nothing noteworthy was quite aggravating.

  Alna glanced at a nearby wooden post. Meteor Lane, said one small green sign. Her lips twisted into a semblance of an ironic smile.

  Well, if Brigate had a bad side of the city, Meteor Lane was certainly it.

  It had appeared on the news on many occasions, home to various incidents ranging from muggings to domestic violence. Most recently, a young boy had taken a knife to his abusive father, sending him to the hospital.

  If Wyatt wanted to meet any unsavoury types, Meteor Lane was the perfect place to do so.

  Marianna’s grip tightened on her hand. “Crap,” she muttered, having picked up on where they were going. Alna turned to look at her, keeping Wyatt in her peripheral vision.

  “We can head back,” she offered with reluctance. There was no denying that they were heading to dangerous territory. Alna herself had never been to this part of the city before. Her parents avoided it at all costs, and there were perfectly capable payphones elsewhere in the city where no one had bothered to take them down.

  Marianna stiffened, her jaw locking in determination. “No, let’s get this over with.” As she talked, Marianna watched Wyatt warily. “I don’t work till four, anyway.”

  Saying nothing, Alna nodded and dragged Marianna to a nearby alley. Marianna stumbled but righted herself.

  “Alna, what––” Marianna began as they entered the alley. She cut herself off, continuing in a lower voice, “What are you thinking?”

  Something crinkled under Alna’s foot. She glanced down, grimacing at the chip bag. There was something soft and squishy in it. Alna was quite certain she didn’t want to know what it was.

  Edging toward the mouth of the alley, Alna peered around the corner of a building. She saw Wyatt’s broad back up ahead, perhaps a block and a half.

  Turning back to Marianna, Alna took in the details of their surroundings. It looked like the type of alley that would show up in a movie where a superhero of some sort would save someone from a mugging. A dumpster sat along one wall. Despite this, there was garbage scattered along the ground, probably blown here by the wind, or left behind by careless people. A pile of blankets and an old, ratty pillow sat in a corner, obviously the bed of some homeless person. Thankfully, Alna saw no signs of them being present at the very moment. She didn’t want to deal with any potential eavesdroppers right now.

  “I wanted to lessen the chances of being spotted,” Alna said in response to Marianna’s questioning look. “There are fewer people here; more of a risk.”

  Understanding flashed in Marianna’s blue eyes, and she nodded.

  Alna was glad she had thought to bring a pocket knife. If needed, she could offer them some form of defence.

  Stepping back onto the sidewalk, Alna and Marianna resumed following Wyatt. He was now a few metres ahead of them, still walking with an air of determination. Alna glanced left and right, searching for any signs of trouble. Getting mugged was not outside the realm of possibilities. Slipping her hand into her pocket, Alna gripped the pocket knife there, reassuring herself of its presence.

  Meteor Lane did not look like the dump one may expect it to be, but the neglect showed. Some houses needed their shingles replaced, or a good paint job. One person’s front yard hadn’t received care for who knew how long, consisting of grass that was both too long and riddled with weeds. All the flowers in the flower bed had died long ago, wilting pathetically, except for one stubborn yellow flower that Alna didn’t know the name of. It looked as cheerful as could be, its petals bright and healthy.

  Alna would never live on a street like this. Not if she could help it.

  Wyatt stopped at one of the nicer places. This house seemed well-tended, albeit lacking in anything that would make it feel homey.

  Well, unless one counted the pungent smell rolling off it in waves.

  Marianna and Alna walked slowly closer as Wyatt entered the house, greeted by a thin woman who assured him inside, looking around nervously. The two girls moved out of her line of sight, despite still being rather far away.

  “God, that’s awful,” Marianna said when the door closed. She wrinkled her nose. “What is that, drugs?”

  “Unfortunately,” Alna said with a sigh. She tugged on Marianna’s hand, leading her past the house. They located a nearby bench, once more taking a seat. Alna watched the house out of the corner of her eye. But at this distance, there was nothing to be seen. The only way she and Marianna would be able to see what was going on in that house would be to get closer. Alna didn’t trust their chances of being able to do so without being seen. With the neighbourhood the way it was, Alna wouldn’t be surprised if suspicious neighbours were monitoring the street through their windows. She said as much to Marianna, who frowned in response.

  Casting a glance at the house Wyatt had disappeared to, Marianna’s brows drew together in frustration. “It’s not even worth trying?”

  Alna bit on the inside of her cheek, looking toward the house as well. “We don’t know how many people are in there,” she said quietly. She eyed the house, trying to come up with a way of seeing its goings-on without being seen, and coming up blank. Curtains covered all the windows she could see.

  Although it took little imagination to figure out what was going on inside.

  Alna would have to call the police soon. There was no way she was going to let a drug operation keep running without reporting it.

  “Besides, it is likely Wyatt is meeting with his drug dealer,” Alna offered.

  “Yeah,” Marianna sighed. She began to say something else, but Alna’s attention was elsewhere.

  A man was crossing the street, heading toward them. His movements reminded Alna of a predator stalking its prey. Her eyes dropped to the knife in his hand.

  “Alna…” Marianna said.

  Alna ignored the alarm in her voice, already lurching off the bench and reaching for the knife in her pocket.

  She placed herself in front of Marianna, eyeing the man carefully.