Chapter 7

  There is actually somebody else in this neighbourhood.

  It’s the first thought that flashes through Ellie’s mind when she hears the scream.

  Without thinking, she abandons all caution and leaps across the floor, through the open door, to see who it is.

  Before she can make anything out, Mrs. Lys’s voice bursts through the doorway, swearing sharply as she follows in Ellie’s wake.

  A man — tall and broad-shouldered — is scooting past Mrs. Lys’s house.

  Nothing about him suggests he’s in any kind of distress.

  He looks to be in his late twenties, flashing a silly grin as he turns, expecting to see Mrs. Lys — but instead, finds a black cat sitting on her front porch.

  “HELP ME!” the man shouts again, disturbing the heavy stillness of the night with exaggerated drama.

  “YOU JERK! Stop screaming like that!”

  Ellie turns to see another side of Mrs. Lys — a version so unlike the one from a moment ago. Her face is flushed with anger, her hair slightly askew, the patchwork blanket now clenched in one fist and waving furiously at the grinning man.

  “SORRY!” the man replies, his grin stretching even wider now that his prank has landed.

  It’s the kind of sorry that isn’t sorry at all.

  Even Ellie can tell.

  “Jasper,” Mrs. Lys calls out as she walks to the front porch, “I swear, one day I’m going to your mum and telling her all about your silliness!”

  The man scoots further away, but his voice still carries from a distance.

  “Well, of course you would… if you can still find her…”

  Ellie’s fur rises with a chill.

  What does he mean?

  Despite the question clinging to her mind, Ellie can’t help but notice the neighbourhood around her.

  It’s changed.

  It’s no longer the dark, lifeless place she once wandered.

  There are windows lit with flickering yellow light.

  People.

  Voices.

  Movement.

  There are more here than just Mrs. Lys and the silly man.

  The neighbourhood has come alive.

  One person was surprising.

  Two is almost too much for Ellie’s small heart to bear.

  This — this whole place — feels like a wild reality beyond anything she can fathom.

  Ellie wakes up in a cold sweat.

  Sunlight pours through the cracked window, casting lines of light across the floor. The sunlight feels too bright. Too ordinary. As if the dream was the real world, and this was the dream.

  She’s lying on the floor.

  She blinks in confusion.

  The memory of the night before surfaces — she was sitting at the edge of her bed… wasn’t she?

  She has no idea how she ended up down here.

  But as her eyes flick to the clock, the question no longer matters.

  She has a more pressing problem.

  She’s late for work. Again.

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  She leaps to her feet, wincing as a dull ache shoots through her back.

  She must have slept in that awkward position all night.

  There’s no time for her usual routine.

  No brushing teeth. No shower. No second thoughts.

  She grabs her backpack and bolts out the door.

  Even if she doesn’t give a damn what Sam thinks about her —

  being this late is unacceptable.

  She knows that.

  It’s two o’clock in the afternoon.

  Ellie bolts out of her flat, the door slamming shut behind her with a dull thud.

  Her shoes are barely on, her bag slung over one shoulder, half-zipped and sagging.

  Part of her is rushing — out of habit, out of obligation, out of fear of what Sam and James might say this time.

  But another part of her doesn’t care. Not really.

  The street blurs past. She moves quickly, but without purpose.

  The café door chimes as Ellie slips in.

  She doesn’t bother with a greeting. The room is already heavy with something unspoken.

  James doesn’t even look up from the espresso machine. The only sounds are the hiss of steam and the clatter of a portafilter locking into place.

  Sam is restocking the pastry shelf. She doesn’t turn around.

  “Nice of you to join us,” she says, voice flat. “Only twenty-nine hours late.”

  Ellie opens her mouth, but nothing useful comes out.

  Twenty-nine hours? What is she talking about? But Ellie knows now isn’t the best time to ask questions.

  “We thought you quit,” James mutters without turning. “Honestly, some of us were hoping.”

  Sam lets out a low snort.

  Ellie moves behind the counter, but no one makes space for her. The air feels tighter than usual.

  “You can start with refilling the water jars,” Sam says, still not looking at her. “Since you missed the morning, the prep, and yesterday.”

  There’s no shouting. No dramatic confrontation.

  Just this quiet freeze.

  Somehow, it stings more.

  As Ellie eases into her work, James and Sam continue to ignore her.

  But oddly, Ellie no longer feels quite so bad about being late — or even about disappearing for a day?

  When the café crowd thins out, Ellie overhears Sam speaking on the phone with Aunt Tilda.

  “Yes, she’s here today — though five hours late.”

  “Well, I’m not sure if she’ll say why she wasn’t here yesterday.”

  “Okay, I’ll try…”

  Sam sounds reluctant, whatever Aunt Tilda is asking of her on the other end.

  After ending the call, she throws a look of disdain and drags her heavy feet toward Ellie.

  Ellie frowns while clearing plates.

  “Boss wants to know why you weren’t here yesterday,” Sam mutters, clearly annoyed she has to speak to her.

  The corners of her mouth twitch with restrained sarcasm.

  “I’m not sure…”

  Before Ellie can even finish her sentence, Sam’s voice rises an octave.

  “Not sure? Of course you’re not sure.” She throws her hands in the air, spinning half a circle for effect. “Why would you be? It’s only your job. Who needs clarity when you just disappear from work? I wish the boss would ask you herself.”

  Her frustration is loud enough to draw the attention of the last lingering customers.

  Ellie looks down.

  James doesn’t look over, but the corner of his mouth tightens.

  “You know what?” Sam says, stepping closer. “Don’t even bother. Just make sure you’re not unsure tomorrow.”

  And with that, Sam spins on her heel and walks back to the counter, muttering something under her breath that Ellie can’t quite catch — but it’s definitely not kind.

  Just as Ellie returns to clearing plates, she feels it — the distinct sensation of being watched.

  Like someone is leaning into her space without moving a muscle.

  She shifts slightly and catches a glimpse out of the corner of her eye.

  A customer at the table she’s been clearing — someone who must have heard the conversation — is now watching her.

  It’s Detective Rook.

  A soft gasp escapes her lips as their eyes meet.

  “Detective Rook! What are you doing here?” Ellie asks, lowering her voice and trying to ignore the unreadable expression on his face.

  She doesn’t even know when he entered the café.

  But then again, she’s spent most of the afternoon looking down, refilling water jars. She has to admit — she didn’t notice.

  “Well,” he says, sipping the latte in front of him, “I need to make sure I understand the background of the civilian assisting me in this investigation.”

  Ellie steals a glance at Sam and James.

  They don’t seem to notice she’s talking to a customer.

  And for some reason, that matters.

  She doesn’t want them to know. Not about the investigation.

  Not when Madam Odette is involved.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to just appear at my workplace,” Ellie says, uneasy.

  Detective Rook gives her a serious look.

  “There’s been a new development in the case. I need to tell you right away.”

  He gestures for her to lean in closer.

  Ellie rubs her hands against her pants, caught between her need to know and her desire to remain invisible to her coworkers.

  “They found evidence suggesting that Mr. Todd may have taken his own life… not been murdered,” he says quietly.

  Despite the background noise — the espresso machine hissing, customers chatting — Ellie hears his words perfectly.

  She shakes her head at once.

  “That’s not possible…”

  Rook presses his lips together.

  “Meet me at the same bistro after work. I’ll show you the evidence. And if you’re willing, we’ll go into his house — do a little investigating of our own.”

  Ellie stares at him, blinking.

  Then, after what feels like an eternity, she nods.

  “Yes. I’ll do that.”