Two long days and over a thousand pages of text later, Emery had run out of fuel. After reading through a decade and a half of files, she aimlessly read the more recent ones, trying to find something—anything—that'd be helpful. But there was nothing. The papers no longer talked about anything related to the fires or her grandparents. People moved on. The news moved on. And the mysteries were left forgotten.
Other than a few other abnormal fires with no casualties, there was nothing of note. The newspaper reported Grandpa Joey's death just as she remembered it. The real mystery was Mama Emma's death, but she had no evidence or intel to figure that one out. Emery even tried asking around town about her grandparents, but everyone said they didn't know them that well or that it was so long ago, they barely remembered.
The mysterious mark had yet to turn up anywhere. Seeing as the newspapers weren't useful, she'd started browsing through the mythology and theology section. That wasn't proving useful either.
Melinda Simmons hadn't made an appearance to open the door to the cellar. Nor had anyone opened it again.
And so her list of failures grew longer and longer. Her younger self would've been so disappointed at this sad misadventure. This trip was a major flop.
Emery let out a loud groan before letting her forehead fall flat against the wooden desk. "What do you want from me?" she tried to communicate with her alter ego, or subconscious, or whoever it was that sent her that strange message. The frustration got the best of her, and she started savagely running her hands through her hair.
"Ah, yes. The young detective hard at work," Seth's voice interrupted her meltdown. Strands of her hair fell over her eyes as she lifted her head. Seth reached a hand to smooth them out of her face while he stooped down next to her. "Another rough day?"
Emery stretched her lips into a sadistic grin. "I'm going for a record." Her shoulders slumped when she turned toward him.
Hopeless . . . She felt absolutely hopeless. It was a feeling she wasn't accustomed to. After a whole whopping twenty-one years of knowing what she wanted, for the first time, she thought to reconsider her future. Maybe these were all signs to give up, that becoming a cop wasn't meant to be.
Seth's pink lips plumped into a pout. "Come on, Em. It's only been three days. Don't give up."
Her hand reached out to caress his cheek, drawing little patterns over his freckles with her thumb. "I don't know. There's usually more to go on at this point. My optimism levels have reached an all-time low."
"What about the sheriff? Didn't she say she was going to bring around some files?"
"Yeah, but she's yet to grace me with her presence. I'll pass by the station after closing if she doesn't turn up." Emery shrugged, turning back to a thick book on Norse mythology. "Didn't you have some final project to turn in today?"
"All done," Seth grinned at her, standing up with an air of triumph. "I am officially finished with the semester."
As soon as those words left his mouth, a curious Mrs. Baker peeked her head out from behind a nearby bookshelf. "Seth, sweet boy! Did I hear right? Are you done with college?"
Seth flinched, sheepishly looking over his shoulder at the old woman. "Yes."
"That's wonderful!" Mrs. Baker exclaimed. Her hurried steps echoed through the cavernous library as she waddled closer. "Then you wouldn't mind helping a friend of mine, would you?"
After a second of hesitation, he asked, "With what?" It sounded more cautious than curious.
"He runs a market a few streets from here, and he needs someone to do some heavy lifting." She frowned, deepening the wrinkles over her ivory skin. "His back has been bothering him for a while now, but no one has shown up for the job." She clasped her hands in front of her chest, pleading to Seth for his help.
He shot Emery a torn look, pushing up his glasses nervously.
"Only do it if you want to," Emery told him, standing up to put the book back in its place.
"Well, it does sound like he could use some help." Seth's face twisted into an insincere smile.
"Wonderful! Aden will be closing up shop soon. If we hurry, we can catch him. Let me just gather my things."
A fake smile stayed glued onto his features until she was well out of sight. Only then did he let his head fall back and groan quietly. "I literally just got here."
Emery squeezed his arm as encouragement, but she knew this was the last thing he wanted to do after a semester of hard work. "I'll make it up to you when we get back to Wimbourne," she whispered before standing on her tippy-toes to plant a soft kiss against his cheek.
Surprise lit up his tired gaze. "I feel better already."
"Well, let's hurry along." Mrs. Baker reappeared as quick as ever before looping her arm around Seth's and pulling him toward the exit.
"Are you staying? It's getting late," Seth asked.
"Just a while longer," she replied, still waiting for a miracle. "I'll meet you at the house when I'm done."
"Don't overwork yourself," was the last thing he said before being dragged away.
Emery paused to stare at the mess of papers and books that were spread out over the desk, then at the very empty building. It was pointless to go on. She might as well close up for the day and try and find the sheriff for those files. With a feet-dragging sluggishness, Emery walked to the large door and grabbed its handle.
A slight breeze brought in scent of pine as the sun was beginning its descent upon Bellenau. The sky above was painted orange and blue, interrupted by speckles of purple clouds. The forest animals and bugs were preparing their night songs. A symphony of chirps, hoots, and crickets merged together with the rustling of trees.
She relished in the peace and—for a fleeting moment—let herself wonder what'd it be like to live in this town like an ordinary civilian. She and Seth could take up jobs at the local market. Maybe they could harvest vegetables or log wood. No stress, no nerves, no frustrations. Just a quiet, repetitive life . . .
"Emery!" someone yelled.
She peeked her head out the half-closed door to see Sheriff Lila ducking her head out of a cop car and waving at her. Her arms then reached into the backseat, grabbing two cardboard boxes with the word 'EVIDENCE' labeled in big, blue lettering.
Forget "quiet repetition"! She wouldn't trade anything for the rush of adrenaline this brought. Even if it did almost make her go crazy.
"Well, don't just stand there. Help me with these," Lila exclaimed.
Emery sprinted toward the car like a giddy child, holding her arms out to receive her present.
"Sorry for the wait. I didn't realize how much paperwork was involved in getting two lousy boxes out of the station."
"Thank you! You don't know how much I needed these right now," she burst out, her mouth cramping up from her beaming grin.
"Now, I told you, there's not much to go on here. I don't want you to get high expectations."
"Believe me, they're low, but they're a step up from nothing."
Lila rolled her eyes. "Come on, I'll help you carry them inside."
Emery ran back up the steps with the big box in her hands, nearly tripping over her own feet. "You can set them down here." She pointed at a desk as Lila made her way inside.
The boxes were finally in her grasp. With glittery eyes and an excited bounce, Emery smoothed her hand over a cardboard lid. This might be what I was waiting for.
"Emery . . ." Lila sighed once more. "Low expectations, right?"
"Huh? Yeah, the lowest," she said, her eyes glued to the word 'Evidence'.
Lila turned back around toward the exit. "Well, you can bring them down to the station when you're done." As soon as she walked outside and shut the door, Emery ripped the lid off the first box.
She had a feeling today was the day she learned the truth.
⤝◈◈◈◈◈⤞
"You've got to be frickin' kidding me!" Emery slammed the very last sheet of paper on the table. Not a single useful thing was in those boxes! In both cases, there was zero, zip, nada!
She checked her watch. It was only 8:47 pm. It took her two hours, just a measly two hours to sift through everything in there. Every single time she read through a fact, or a testimony, or some evidence, she ended up with zero answers and more questions. She'd had it!
She was going to make some progress today! One way or another!
With a ravenous scowl, she stomped toward her cloth bag, reaching into its front pocket and grabbing a thin metal lockpick.
She wasted no time in weaving her way through the tall shelves, toward that cursed door. Without even hesitating, she bent down and jammed the metal into the lock. In just a few seconds, it clicked, and she threw the door open.
The cellar was unlocked.
She could only see two steps in before it fell off into a wall of black. Emery went to grab her bag and her flashlight before recklessly running down the staircase. It was best to hurry before her conscience kicked in. The light flashed all over in search of a light switch. As soon as her eyes met the flimsy beige socket, she flicked the switch up, flooding the room with yellow light.
It took her a few seconds before she could unsquint her eyes and look around. Her heart shrunk at the sight. Even more metal file cabinets stood in vertical rows throughout the cellar. It was her worst nightmare.
After stuffing the flashlight back in her bag, she reached toward a drawer and pulled out a few papers.
Receipts, inventory stats, orders . . .
Useless, useless, useless . . .
She shut the drawer closed with a bang before walking further back. There was a space farther in where the room's singular, dim bulb didn't quite reach. Only the faint outline of a door stood out to her.
Emery reached again for her flashlight and pointed it forward. Her eyes widened as they stared at a huge entryway. Its handle was made of iron, and its frame was dark brick. The door itself was thick wood, worn and old. It looked like it'd been there for a long time, maybe even before the fire.
Holding her breath, with her eyes tightly shut, she wrapped her hand around the iron handle and pushed. The metal hinges creaked under her weight as the door opened. Emery couldn't believe it. Finally! Something went her way!
An even darker room stood before her. She flashed the light straight inside, noticing a circular room with one archway on the left and another on the right.
More rooms? she wondered. How big was this place? Better yet . . . What was this place?
She took cautious steps inside and flashed her light on the walls. Armor, swords, shields, and all kinds of weapons hung on bulky iron nails, stuck deep in the brick. She got closer, her eyes drawn to the symbol etched into every single item. It was unmistakable.
The mark! The damn mark! It was there and real, and— She needed to get a picture of this. Her hand reached into her pocket to grasp her cellphone, but as soon as she turned the screen on, its battery fizzled out and died. "No, no, no come on," she whined, pressing her thumb harder against the power button before hitting her palm against the black screen. "Stupid thing!"
A faint twinkle made her stop her phone assault. She straightened up and stayed silent to see if she could hear it again. Sure enough, two consecutive notes filled the room, like the sparkling, light sounds of a music box.
She turned back around, flashing her light toward the far wall where she'd heard it. There, on a waist-high marble pedestal, was a wooden box and a golden key.
At the sight, something pierced both sides of her head, as if it were smashed between two bricks. Emery dropped her flashlight and ducked down, pressing her palms against her temples. Yells strained her throat, and she shut her eyes.
For a second, all was black before she saw a younger Emery, holding both items in her hands and joining them. Her younger self opened the box's lid.
And then the pain went away. Emery heaved up dry air, her body in a cold sweat, trembling like a wildflower in a hurricane. She eased her hands away from her head to push herself up.
It's the box, she realized. I have to open the box.
As she supported herself against the pedestal she picked up the gold key and inserted it into the box's metal lock. It turned three times, creaking like a winding clock before it popped open. Her trembling fingers lifted the lid and then she heard it. That same haunting, timeless song she'd heard long ago.
The tiny coils and cogs inside turned at a hypnotizing pace. They flowed into one another in perfect unison. The music got louder and louder, making her head ache once more. Unable to stand any more pain, she fell to a heap on the floor, hugging her legs to her. Her whole body shook as the song's melodies turned into rhythmic, pounding pain.
Tears fell down her cheeks as she pinched her eyes together, sending in another wave of flashes. She saw a glimpse of a glowing box. Grandpa Joey ripping it from her grasp.
Emery screamed, thrashing violently on the floor. An image of a shadowed figure invaded her mind. There was blood.
An Axe.
Fire.
Emery remembered.
She remembered everything.