The scattered papers on my bedroom floor stared back at me accusingly, like shards of our shattered investigation. I had tried to recreate as much as I could, but so much had been lost when the bag feel at the lighthouse. I hunched over them in the dim light, my eyes straining to make sense of the mess. Wilson's betrayal felt like a punch to the gut, leaving me winded and reeling.

  My phone buzzed, Elsie's name lighting up the screen. I answered quickly. "Hey, what's—"

  "They're kicking us out, Arlo." Elsie's voice cracked, raw with emotion. "Those greedy bastards are evicting us."

  My stomach dropped. "What? When?"

  "Two weeks. Can you believe it? After everything my parents’ have done for this town." Elsie's words dripped with venom. "It's not fair. It's not right."

  I gripped the phone tighter, wishing I could reach through and comfort her somehow. "I'm so sorry, Elsie. This is awful. Is there anything I can do?"

  She let out a bitter laugh. "Unless you've got a spare house lying around, I don't think so."

  I winced at my own uselessness. "Maybe we could organise a protest or something? Get the town involved?"

  "Yeah, because they wouldn’t just squash that too," Elsie snapped. Then she sighed, her anger deflating. "Sorry. I know you're just trying to help."

  "It's okay," I said softly. "You have every right to be angry."

  We sat in silence for a moment, the weight of everything pressing down on us. I looked around my room, at all the comforts I took for granted, and felt a stab of guilt.

  "What are you guys going to do?" I finally asked.

  "I don't know," Elsie admitted, her voice small. "Mom's talking about moving in with my aunt for a while, but..." She trailed off, and I could picture her shaking her head. "This is our home, Arlo. How can they just take it away?"

  I had no answer for her. The unfairness of it all made my chest ache. "I wish I could fix this," I whispered.

  "Yeah, me too," Elsie said. "Look, I should go. Mom needs help packing."

  "Okay. Call me if you need anything, alright? Anything at all."

  After we hung up, I stared at my phone, feeling utterly helpless. I couldn’t bring myself to tell Elsie I had lost everything. Now, the scattered remnants of our investigation seemed to mock me now. What good was uncovering the truth if we couldn't even protect the people we cared about?

  I trudged through the school hallways, my footsteps echoing in the sudden hush that fell as I passed. The weight of my backpack felt like nothing compared to the burden of everyone's stares.

  "There he goes," a voice whispered, not quite soft enough. "His dad’s in jail."

  I kept my eyes fixed ahead, trying to ignore the prickling sensation at the back of my neck. A group of freshmen huddled by their lockers, casting furtive glances my way before ducking their heads.

  "I heard his dad stole millions," another voice hissed.

  "Bet the apple doesn't fall far from the tree," came the reply.

  I clenched my jaw, fighting the urge to turn and confront them. It wouldn't do any good, I reminded myself. They'd already made up their minds about me.

  As I rounded the corner, I nearly collided with my former lab partner. He mumbled a quick "sorry" before practically running in the opposite direction.

  Great. Even the science nerds were avoiding me now.

  I pushed through the double doors into the courtyard, grateful for the rush of fresh air. That's when I spotted Tina, perched on our usual bench. Her wild curls were adorned with what looked like origami unicorns today, a splash of colour against the grey sky.

  "Hey," I called out, managing a weak smile.

  Tina looked up; her amber eyes clouded with an emotion I couldn't quite place. "Oh, Arlo," she said, her usually dreamy voice tinged with sadness. "I was hoping to catch you before class."

  I sat down beside her, noticing how she shifted ever so slightly away. "What's up?" I asked, trying to keep my tone light despite the knot forming in my stomach.

  She took a deep breath, twisting a strand of hair around her finger. "Imagine if... if the world was a book, and someone just ripped out all the happy endings," she began, in typical Tina fashion. "That's kind of how this feels."

  "Tina, what are you talking about?"

  She met my gaze, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "My parents... they've forbidden me from seeing you anymore. They say it's too risky, with everything that's going on. You know, with your dad, Elsie’s parents."

  The words hit me like a physical blow. "What? But...They know me."

  "I know," Tina said, her voice cracking. "I tried to explain, but they're scared. The whole town is scared, Arlo. And sometimes fear makes people do silly things, like judging a story by its cover instead of reading all the beautiful pages inside."

  I swallowed hard, fighting back the sting of betrayal. "So that's it? We're just... not friends anymore?"

  Tina reached out, then hesitated, her hand hovering in the air between us. "Of course we're still friends," she whispered. "Just... maybe our friendship has to go undercover for a while, like in those detective novels you love."

  I wanted to be angry, to lash out at the unfairness of it all. But looking at Tina's face, seeing the pain etched in her features, I couldn't bring myself to add to her burden.

  "I understand," I said softly, even though I didn't. Not really.

  The bell rang, startling us both. Tina stood up, clutching her books to her chest like a shield. "I'm so sorry, Arlo," she said, backing away. "This isn't the end of our story. I promise."

  As I watched her disappear into the crowd, I couldn't help but wonder if there were any happy endings left in Havenwood at all.

  I trudged down the hallway, my footsteps echoing in the emptying corridor. The familiar wooden door of Mrs. Harper's office loomed ahead, a beacon of warmth in the cold sea of judgement I'd been swimming in all day.

  "Come in, Arlo," Mrs. Harper called softly as I knocked. Her gentle smile greeted me as I entered, but I could see the worry lines creasing her forehead. I sank into the cushy chair across from her desk, the scent of lavender and old books wrapping around me like a comforting blanket. "You wanted to see me?"

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  Mrs. Harper leaned forward, her brown eyes filled with concern. "How are you holding up, dear?"

  "I'm fine," I lied, my fingers picking at a loose thread on my jeans.

  She sighed, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of the whole town. "Arlo, I know what’s going on. Elsie isn’t fine. 'Fine' isn't going to cut it."

  I met her gaze, feeling the walls I'd built start to crumble. "It's... hard," I admitted. "Everyone looks at me like I'm some kind of monster. Bad things are happening to good people."

  "Oh, sweetheart," Mrs. Harper said, her voice thick with emotion. "You're anything but. You're one of the brightest, kindest souls I've ever had the pleasure of knowing."

  Her words warmed me, but the chill of reality quickly set back in. "Then why does it feel like the whole world is against me?"

  Mrs. Harper's eyes flickered with an internal struggle. "Arlo, I need to ask you something, and I want you to know it comes from a place of love and concern." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "Have you considered... stepping back from the investigation?"

  The question hit me like a punch to the gut. "You want me to give up?" I asked, incredulous.

  "No, no," she said quickly. "I want you to be safe. I want you to have a chance at a normal life. This town... it has a long memory and a talent for holding grudges. I'm worried about what this is doing to you. What it is doing to Elsie."

  And what it is doing to you, I thought. I imagined her packing with Elsie, faced with an eviction notice. It wasn’t fair.

  I felt my jaw clench. "So I should just let them win? Let them think my dad is guilty when I know he's not?"

  Mrs. Harper's shoulders sagged. "I know it's not fair. But sometimes... sometimes we have to choose our battles, for our own well-being."

  I stood up, my chair scraping against the floor. "I can't do that, Mrs. Harper. I won't."

  She nodded, a mixture of pride and sadness in her eyes. "I know, dear. I just had to try."

  As I left her office, the weight of her words settled on my shoulders like a heavy cloak.

  The walk home was a blur of autumn colours and whispered judgements. When I finally reached our house, the silence hit me like a physical force. No TV blaring dad's favourite sports channel. Just... emptiness.

  I dropped my backpack by the door, the thud echoing through the quiet rooms. The air felt thick, oppressive, as if the very walls were closing in on me. I ran my hand along the back of dad's favourite armchair, half-expecting to feel the warmth of his presence. Instead, there was only cold leather and the faint scent of his aftershave.

  My footsteps seemed unnaturally loud as I made my way to the kitchen. The calendar on the fridge mocked me with its cheerful family photos and circled dates of events that now felt like they belonged to someone else's life.

  I opened the refrigerator, more out of habit than hunger. The shelves were sparse, a testament to mum's distraction and dad's absence. I let the door swing shut, the soft thud feeling like a punctuation mark on the silence.

  As I stood there, surrounded by the ghosts of happier times, the weight of my solitude pressed down on me like a physical thing. For the first time since this nightmare began, I allowed myself to wonder if Mrs. Harper might be right. If dad was right. Was I fighting a losing battle? And if I was, at what cost?

  A sharp knock at the door jolted me from my thoughts, my heart leaping into my throat. I glanced at the clock – 6:23 PM. No one visited anymore, who could it be?

  I approached the door cautiously, peering through the peephole. The sight of Officer Jenkins' stern face made my stomach drop. I took a deep breath and opened the door.

  "Good evening, Arlo," Jenkins said, his gravelly voice carrying a hint of something I couldn't quite place. Concern? Frustration?

  "Officer Jenkins," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. "What brings you here?"

  He shifted his weight, his grey eyes scanning the porch behind him before meeting mine. "May I come in? This isn't a conversation for open doors."

  I hesitated for a moment before stepping aside. As Jenkins entered, the floorboards creaked under his heavy tread. He stood in our living room, looking oddly out of place in his crisp uniform.

  "I'll be direct, Arlo," he said, his words clipped and precise. "This investigation of yours needs to stop. Now."

  I felt a flare of defiance. "With all due respect, sir, I can't just—"

  "You can, and you will," Jenkins cut me off, his tone brooking no argument. "This isn't a game, son. You're treading in dangerous waters, and I'm here to pull you back before you drown."

  I clenched my fists, frustration bubbling up inside me. "But what about justice? What about clearing my dad's name?"

  Jenkins' expression softened slightly, a flicker of sympathy in his eyes. "Sometimes, Arlo, the path to justice isn't straight. You're putting yourself and others at risk. There are... forces at play here that you don't understand."

  His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I wanted to argue, to defend my actions, but the gravity in Jenkins' voice gave me pause. Was I really in over my head?

  "I know you mean well," Jenkins continued, his voice lowering. "But this town has secrets, dark ones. Your father... he stumbled into something bigger than he realized. Don't make the same mistake."

  I felt the fight drain out of me, replaced by a gnawing sense of uncertainty. "So what am I supposed to do? Just give up?"

  Jenkins placed a heavy hand on my shoulder. "Sometimes, stepping back is the bravest thing you can do. Let us handle this, Arlo. For your own sake, and for those you care about."

  “But you’re not handling it!” That’s the problem.” Even as I blurted it out, I regretted it. He stood still as a statue, staring me down. I looked at the floor.

  As he turned to leave, I was left standing in the silent house, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions. The weight of Jenkins' warning pressed down on me, challenging everything I thought I knew about right and wrong, justice and self-preservation.

  I stared at the blank sheet of paper before me, pen hovering uncertainly above its pristine surface. The clock on my desk ticked away, each second feeling like an eternity as I struggled to find the right words.

  "Dear..." I muttered, then immediately crossed it out. Too formal. Too final.

  My hand trembled slightly as I tried again. "I'm sorry, but I have to—"

  No, that wasn't right either. I crumpled the paper and tossed it aside, running a hand through my hair in frustration.

  "Come on, Arlo," I chided myself. "You've read countless mystery novels. Surely you can write one measly goodbye note."

  But this wasn't fiction. This was my life, and the lives of everyone I cared about. The weight of that realisation made my chest tight.

  I turned to my backpack, deciding to focus on packing instead. As I reached for my favourite sweater, memories flooded back—wearing it on chilly autumn days with Elsie and Tina, laughing as we walked to school. I folded it carefully, placing it in the bag.

  "It's not forever," I whispered, trying to convince myself. "Just until things cool down."

  Next came my dog-eared copy of "The Hound of the Baskervilles." I ran my fingers over its worn cover, remembering countless nights spent poring over its pages, imagining myself as a great detective.

  "Some detective I turned out to be," I muttered, a bitter chuckle escaping my lips as I tucked the book away.

  As I continued packing, each item seemed to carry a piece of my life in Havenwood. My lucky pen, a gift from Mrs. Harper. The smooth river stone Tina had given me on my birthday. Even my ratty old sneakers held memories of late-night investigative wanderings with Elsie.

  I zipped up the bag, its finality hitting me like a physical blow. "Is this really the right thing to do?" I asked the empty room, half-hoping for an answer that wouldn't come. The weight of it all was a storm in my belly. I just couldn’t face the comments and gossip. If I got away for a while people would forget. Maybe the Harpers wouldn’t be evicted.

  I paused, my hand still resting on the zipper of my backpack. My eyes swept across the room, taking in every detail as if seeing it for the first time. The faded poster of Sherlock Holmes on the wall, a reminder of my childhood dreams. The bookshelf, packed with well-loved mysteries and thrillers. The first cork board above my desk, where I'd placed the first clues in our investigation. Before I lost it all.

  "So many memories," I murmured, my throat tightening.

  I walked over to my desk, picking up a framed photo of Elsie, Tina, and me summer, standing on the porch at the start of our investigation. We were smiling, carefree. Before everything went wrong.

  "I'm sorry, guys," I whispered, tracing their faces with my finger. "I never meant for any of this to happen."

  The weight of my decision pressed down on me, making it hard to breathe. I set the photo down and moved to the window, looking out at the familiar streets of Havenwood. The town I'd always called home now felt alien, hostile.

  "Maybe it's better if I just disappear for a while," I said to myself, trying to justify my choice. But even as the words left my mouth, doubt crept in.

  I grabbed my backpack and headed downstairs, each step feeling heavier than the last. At the front door, I hesitated, my hand on the doorknob.

  "This is it, Arlo," I said aloud, my voice shaky. "Once you walk out this door..."

  I closed my eyes, memories washing over me. The good times, the bad, the people I loved. Everything I was leaving behind.

  "But what if leaving makes things worse?" The thought hit me suddenly, making me pause. "What if running away isn't the answer?"

  I stood there, frozen on the threshold, the weight of my decision pressing down on me. Stay and face the consequences, or go and start anew? The future stretched out before me, uncertain and frightening.

  "Whatever I choose," I whispered, "there's no going back."