Seacliff Cemetery, Washington – May 24, 2016, 7.00 p.m.

Driving straight from work, she’d left the city behind, traveling for over an hour to a graveyard over looking the ocean.

Feet clad in medium-high heels emerged from the rental car and onto white crushed rock. The woman, dressed in a smart gray suit and thick black overcoat, had pulled up to an expensive-looking, beautifully manicured cemetery. A hand, encased in a leather glove, pulled the hair back from her face and twisted it to one side.

Opening the trunk, the woman pulled out a large wreath of yellow roses and white carnations, Susie’s favorite. After she slammed the lid shut, she brushed the moisture from her face and trudged toward the main gate, shouldering her awkward load.

Taking a well-worn path, she soon found herself at the foot of a white marble headstone. It read:

Precious daughter and sister. Susan Lianna Walter. B. March 6, 1984. D. June 24, 2000. May angels watch over her now.

There was great significance in that last statement. She was sadly reminded that God hadn’t watched over her little sister back then.

Veronica was only four minutes older than her twin, Susan. But the tiny window of time had made her feel all the more responsible. And the need to protect her sibling had always been strong. Even from the moment they could walk.

Standing alone, looking down at the deep engraving in the stone, she crouched down. Slipping off one of her gloves, she reached out and touched the headstone. She choked back tears as her fingers traced the name buried there.

As thunder rolled overhead and lightning split the sky, she lingered. Not daring to move, still feeling the undeniable connection with her lost half. They had been two halves of a whole. One being, part of which was lost sixteen long years ago.

Rain began to pour down and the water seeped through her clothes, threatening to chase the chill beneath her skin. Leaning forward, she buried her face in the flowers, her hand momentarily making contact with the moist earth.

At that moment, a jolt of electricity passed through her fingertips and a shiver tore through her body. Images she didn’t recognize clouded her mind, and she saw other things she’d hoped she’d long forgotten. Struggling against men who were trying to hold her down. A hand protectively stroking a rounded belly. Seeing a face come out of the darkness and feeling a sudden fear grip her heart. Her sister’s voice echoed faintly in her ears: “No, no, no.” What did it all mean?

Tears slipped down her cheeks unchecked, mingling with the raindrops on her face. She kept seeing the image of her sister’s sad eyes, full of pain and regret. And something else, something she couldn’t place.

Standing up slowly, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Susie had tried to reach her. There was so much mystery still left surrounding her sister’s death. She’d left it alone, trying to not cause her parents any additional grief. But it had been long enough. How much time could she let go by without answers? There was no good reason why she couldn’t investigate without their involvement. It was so long ago, though, that she wondered if she’d get the answers she was searching for.

Because she'd been only 16 years old herself at the time, she’d not had the knowledge or opportunity to question anyone. There had been one exchange with her father that she wished she could have undone. It hadn’t been the right time or the right place for it. And it had hurt the already fragile relationship she and her father had.

“Dad, please, I just want to know what the doctor said.”

He’d turned to look at her with an expression she’d never witnessed before.

“She’s dead. Not you, not me, not God can bring her back. She killed herself. That’s all there is to know.”

Later she’d learned what the look meant. It was a mixture of denial, anger and suppressed pain. She'd endured months of silence before he spoke to her again. Before he allowed anyone to speak about Susan around him again.

Getting up from her knees, she touched the ground once more. “I’ll find out what happened, Susie. I promise.”

END OF PROLOGUE

Renton Municipal Court, Washington – June 19, 2016, 10.40 a.m.

As Martin collected his papers and put them into his briefcase, a man from the defendant’s table approached him.

“Doesn’t it piss you off that the government has to waste so much money just to pin a petty charge on one guy who’s only as guilty as 90 percent of Seattle’s population?” the man in the expensive suit asked.

Shaking his head, Martin picked up his briefcase. “Think about what you just said, Nigel. You’re talking about assaulting a female police officer. Take a look around you.”

The man looked around and saw the front row full of off-duty officers, all glaring at him. Momentarily flabbergasted, he missed Martin walking away from him.

As Martin exited the double doors, he checked his phone for messages. He had one person to call. Hitting send twice, he waited to connect. “Logan. What’s up?”

Logan’s Apartment, Fogle Towers – 10.45 a.m.

“Thanks for calling me back. How’d it go?” Logan stood at his kitchen counter, arranging fruit in a glass bowl.

“We got him serving two years at Langford. Judge’s gone soft. Anyway, hopefully he’ll think twice before beating on a cop again.”

“Yeah. Listen, I know this is probably going to be asking too much, but I really need to know what Judge Coleman was working on before he disappeared.” Logan walked toward his study, ready for his friend to say no.

There was a long pause on the line before Martin answered. “One of these days I'm going to get caught and get disbarred, or worse. Then who'll be your source?”

Logan chuckled, knowing Martin was being serious but wanting his friend to lighten up, “I’ll hire one of those pretty paralegals you’ve always got handy.” He heard Martin snort. Logan added hastily, “Look, if you happen to find something, great. If not, I’ve got other leads to keep us busy for now.”

Martin was just about to interject with, "Who’s us?" when Logan abruptly ended the call.

“Thanks, Shoei.”

Martin flipped the phone shut, not even realizing he’d stamped his foot at the same time Logan had cut the line. He had a sneaking suspicion that he knew exactly who made up the "us”. Pocketing his cell phone, he continued down the hall, shaking his head as he went. One of these days, they were all going to get into serious trouble and he wouldn’t be the only one to say, I told you so.

LA Seattle Freelancers

A.J. sat on the floor scanning printouts and throwing them onto various piles. To the ordinary eye, it looked like a freak storm had swept a mountain of files from a desk and dropped them on the carpet. But there was definite method to her madness -- if someone was to ask for a specific paper, she’d have it to them in a heartbeat. Considering the nature of the material she was handing, anyone would think that displaying them openly for all to see was asking for trouble. They could only ask Martin to research so much; the rest she usually got from alternate sources. Which usually required her to put her acquired skill to illicit use.

An hour’s searching and downloading had produced a considerable amount of information to sort and analyze. It was a good thing Logan had a healthy trust fund with which to finance their small enterprise. The equipment they used to cover their hacks cost a small fortune, and all of it was bought through back channels.

Logan sat behind the desk near the door. He was on the phone with a client, and was busy scribbling notes on a pad as he listened. “You’re sure about this? Sector 12? Right…”

Looking up to meet his eyes momentarily, A.J. lifted up a photocopied article and pointed to it. It read, Drug hiatus: Totona ring or elaborate set-up? Seeing Logan nod, she abandoned her work and waited for Logan to finish his call.

As he hung up, Logan told her, “His account seems credible. We set up a meet in Chinatown.” After checking his watch, he pulled open his bottom drawer and took out his wallet. “I’m meeting him in an hour. You think you can manage on your own for a bit?” He nodded to the paper that covered every bit of floor space between the end of his desk and the office door.

“Ha-ha. Funny,” A.J. replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes. “I’ll manage. Just remember, this is our priority case. The hiatus’ll just make some quick cash. Not to mention, prove that ‘dirty cop’ theory I know you’re just itching to publish.”

Logan stood and lifted his jacket from the back of the chair. “What do you want for lunch? I’ll pick up something.”

A.J. stretched her legs out in front of her and tilted her head thoughtfully. “Lo Wong makes wicked sushi. Grab me a salmon and egg. Oh, and could you grab some more coffee too? We’re out.” She sent him an ever-so-sweet smile when he raised an eyebrow.

“For someone who drinks about two pounds of coffee in a week, you're remarkably unaffected.” Logan shook his head and lifted his satchel from the coat hook. Hopping through A.J.’s mini-minefield, he walked out of the office. In a few short paces, he’d walked out of the reception area and was pushing the button for the elevator.

A.J. smiled and went back to the paper she was reading. She knew why they were out of coffee so often, but she wouldn’t tell him. She had her sources too. Unlike Logan, she didn’t have wads of cash to wave around, but good coffee could get you things. Things even money couldn’t buy.

Lotus Market, Chinatown

Strolling through the crowded market, it didn’t take Logan long to find the small noodle bar called Red Duck. His man was already there, his boots nervously tapping against the foot rung on the barstool.

“Logan Cale, Seattle Freelancers.” He extended his hand to the scruffily dressed man.

The man wore gloves with the fingers cut out, a green beanie from which his hair stuck out, and a winter coat that looked like it had seen better days. If it weren’t for the fact that he had video evidence, Logan would have seriously doubted his source’s credibility.

“I know what you’re thinking, that I’m just in it for the money. Well I am, but that’s not why I came to you.” He reached inside his jacket and pulled out his wallet. Opening it, he showed Logan a photo of his family. “Six months ago, there was a peaceful protest to lift the lockdown on Sector 12. Another group, a small gang of troublemakers, started pushing around some of the protestors. Police moved in to break up the groups.From the outside, it became hard to tell who was where and what everyone was doing. A riot broke out -- a lot of people got hurt, and two people died. My son was one of the two. He was there with his girlfriend. They’d been innocent bystanders. She testified to police that he’d been beaten unconscious by two officers, and that he’d been unarmed and completely cooperative.”

Logan nodded, silently urging him to go on. The picture showed a boy who seemed like a happily adjusted youth. It was obvious that the memories were still very fresh, and the distress was plain in the man’s expression.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on those two cops in particular, ever since. I know you’ll publish the truth. They might have gotten away with murder, but they won’t walk away from this.” He opened the backpack he’d been leaning on and took out a disc. “I know it’s illegal, but I stole a hoverdrone. Troy’s girlfriend is really good with gadgets -- we recorded all of its footage on a closed circuit.”

Logan was both surprised and impressed. He half-expected an outdated videocassette that he’d have to find a player for, just to view the footage. Instead he was getting hi-resolution, infrared surveillance on CD. Pulling the folder from inside a yellow envelope, Logan lifted a document and placed it in front of the man. The document was labeled Richard W. Morris.

“My name is on this,” the man said worriedly.

Passing him a pen, Logan pointed to the declaration area. “It’s just for our records. You’ll remain anonymous. Your personal details will never be disclosed.We’re buying your story and the evidence.” He pulled out a fat envelope from his inner coat pocket. “It’s all there. Feel free to count it, and you can contact us at anytime. Just remember that your anonymity is also your own responsibility. We can’t protect you, beyond never disclosing you as a source.”

The man didn’t open the envelope. He quickly shoved it in his bag and shook Logan’s hand. “I understand. And thank you.”

Logan watched as the man walked away. He tapped the disc against his palm before placing it inside his jacket. Checking his watch, it was about an hour past A.J.’s regular lunch hour. He’d better head back quickly, or not go back at all. She was one woman who took her food seriously.

LA Seattle Freelancers – early afternoon

Somewhere at the back of the office, there was a loud crash and a curse. A second later, the elevator doors chimed. A.J. scrambled to pick up the plastic filing boxes she'd gotten out of the storage room. Dropping the boxes on her desk, she navigated through the piles of paper on the floor and exited the office. Closing the door behind her, she rounded the corner to the reception area.

Seeing the woman standing in the hallway outside the elevator, A.J.’s mouth opened in surprise. She’d recognize those eyes anywhere. Throwing open the door, she said, “Ronnie!” She pulled her old friend into a bear hug. “What’s it been? Oh who cares. Too long.”

Veronica laughed. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

A.J. screwed up her noise. “But you have. What’s with the drab get-up? Don’t tell me -- you’re a lawyer?”

Smiling, Veronica studied her friend. “No, but would that been an issue for you?” She raised an eyebrow and studied her surroundings.

Steering her to the lounge, A.J. sat down next to Veronica and launched into an inquiry. “So what brings you to Seattle? What are you up to? How long are you in town and where are you staying?”

“Whoa.” Veronica smiled again. “First up, it wasn’t easy finding you. But I am sorry I didn’t sooner.”

A.J. grinned. “You’re forgiven.” She was about to get up, when she slouched into the couch again. “I’d offer you coffee, but we’re out. My partner’ll be back with some. Who knows how long he’ll take,” she said, rolling her eyes. “When it comes to a case he’s always punctual, even early. But when it comes to me or anyone else, it’s like 'Oh, I didn’t even notice the time.'”

“So, he’s the man in your life…?”

“No, no man in my life. Work keeps me busy. And besides, you remember my pact. Unless he’s stunningly handsome, smart, rich and funny, I’d never get stuck with him.”

They both broke out into giggles, and were still engrossed in the memory when Logan appeared. Neither of the women noticed his entrance.

Looking up, A.J. finally saw him. She thought to herself that he must have used the fire escape, because she could have sworn that she never heard the elevator doors open.

Answering her unspoken question he said, “Left my pass behind.”

Oh, A.J. mouthed. “This is my old friend, Veron…” she stopped mid-sentence when she caught the expression on Logan’s face. She couldn't figure out if it meant he was happy or annoyed by her friend's presence.

“We know each other,” Veronica supplied, breaking the awkward silence.

“I only got you two rolls.” Logan held up the bag of take-out, and A.J. jumped up.

“I’ll order some pizza. I’ll be right back.” A.J. left before either Logan or Veronica could protest. She knew both of them would probably want to kill her later, but it looked like they had more catching up to do than she did. In the meantime, she thought she’d disappear and make herself useful.

Logan stood where he was. He couldn’t quite figure out why he wasn’t happy to see Veronica. They’d been good friends in college. Well, that was, until he’d tried to make more of their friendship, and she hadn’t responded in kind. On the rebound, he’d met and dated Valerie -- a mistake he lived to regret.And the rest was history. He graduated and got married, then divorced - a little wiser and a lot less loaded - a few years later.

“It’s good to see you, Logan.” Veronica stood and walked over to him. “If this is a bad time, I’ll go. You can tell A.J. that I’ll call her later.”

The last time she’d seen Logan was at his graduation. She’d congratulated him on both his achievement and his engagement to Valerie. After that, they’d lost touch. She’d heard that they had gotten married, but it looked like they weren’t together anymore. There was no ring on his finger. Then again, a lot of couples didn’t wear wedding bands. Something about the way he was watching her, though, made her think that he was single again.

“Wait.” Logan reached for her hand. He knew he blamed her for a lot of things, but none of them were truly her fault. Maybe it was time to let it go. It was long overdue. “You came here. Why?”

Veronica sat down again, not sure she knew where to start. “I know it’s been a long time, Logan. I’m sorry I lost touch. After graduating I got accepted into the American Institute of Cryptography. I’ve bounced around a lot since then. I’ll be in Seattle for the next month, but then I’m being called back to Langley.” She reached into her handbag and handed him a photo. “She’s the reason I’m coming to you.”

Taking the picture,, Logan studied the girl frozen in time. She didn’t look much different from Veronica. A girl in her teens, smiling as she hugged a pony. “Who is she?” He’d wanted to know if she was a daughter, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask. He moved to sit on the couch opposite Veronica, and placed the picture on the table.

She didn’t answer right away, because a lump had formed in her throat, and she reached out to pull the picture back. “She’s my twin. Susan.”

Logan leaned forward, wanting to look at the picture again. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

A.J. had returned and heard Veronica say Susan’s name. She hadn’t heard that name in years. The last time she remembered seeing Veronica and Susan together was over sixteen years ago. Catching a glimpse of the photo brought all kinds of memories flooding back. School camps, family dinners, playing in the treehouse A.J.'s father had built for them. A.J. had always been closer to Ronnie, but as long as she could remember, Susan had always been there too. That was, until the family moved away, which was only after something terrible had happened one summer.

Ronnie looked up to meet A.J.’s eyes, and her nose started running. Pulling a tissue from her pocket, she hastily dried her nose. “She died a long time ago.”

A.J. didn’t waste time in moving to sit next to Ronnie. Putting her arm around her shoulders, she squeezed her gently. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea…”

“My parents kept it pretty quiet. I left it alone for a long time, because of them. But I have to know what happened to her. You don’t know, A.J. After that summer, so much changed. She didn’t commit suicide, like they said. I know she didn’t. She wouldn’t.” Veronica sent A.J. a pleading look, and though she felt tears building in the back of her eyes, she held them back.

“When did it happen?” A.J. asked quietly, offering Ronnie another tissue.

She had to get this out. “I tried looking into it, but so far I’ve come up with nothing. Maybe I’m not asking the right questions, or maybe I’m just not looking hard enough.”

Logan picked up the picture and then across at Veronica. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You were young. How much could you have done?”

“There’s no excuse now. It’s a complete joke. Every day in my job, I dig up information on people, places, and I can’t even find one lead on a troubled 16-year-old girl…”

“It’s an old case. People move, forget, files get misplaced. It happens a lot. I promise, we’ll help you find answers, Ronnie. It’ll take time and you have to try to remember everything that happened.” Logan turned and reached into his bag, pulling out a notepad and a pen. “Let's start with just before you moved.”

Knowing that dredging up the past was going to hurt, Veronica closed her eyes for a moment. She was doing this for Susan, she reminded herself. Susan deserved to rest in peace, and that was impossible while this stigma still hung over her memory.

Veronica pulled a fresh tissue from the box and leaned back into the couch. “We were living in Portland at the time. It was summer, around May…”

END OF ACT 1

Walter’s family home, Portland – May 6, 1999, late evening

Young Veronica and her mother sat on the sofa, Susan wedged between them, sobbing uncontrollably. Her face was streaked with tears, and her nose was running. Her hair was disheveled. There was mud on her hands and on her clothes. Her top was ripped and missing a few buttons. The blanket wrapped around her did little to stop the chills that shook her body.

“How could this happen?” their father raged. “What kind of school allows this to happen to a 15-year-old girl?”

“They caught the boys…” Their mother’s voice trailed off.

Veronica wondered if that was because she knew who they were, or because she didn’t know how she really felt about everything. Maybe, like Veronica, her mother couldn’t believe what had happened.

Their father couldn’t even look at Susan. He got angrier each time he did. Their mother just kept quiet and hugged her daughter tight. It wasn’t till they’d put Susan to bed that Veronica heard them resume their conversation downstairs.

Dressed in her nightie and bunny slippers, Veronica crawled to the vent and knelt by the grate. Her hair brushed the floor as she leaned down to eavesdrop.

“If they don’t put those two in detention, I’ll…” There was a pause, and Veronica could almost see her father violently wringing an imaginary neck. “As for the other one…Make sure you call Janet in the morning if they haven’t picked him up.”

“Jason, he’s only…” Her mother was protesting because the other boy was her best friend’s son. He was their age, and Ronnie knew her mother still couldn’t believe he was involved.

“Don’t say it, Marie. Have you seen our daughter? Did you look at what he did to her?”

Veronica cried by the air vent as she listened to her parents argue. She got up and crawled back into bed. She could see Susan in her bed across the room. Her sister was crying in her sleep, and the tremors were making the covers jerk.

Quietly, she crossed the room and slipped under the covers next to her sister. Susan cuddled to her almost immediately. After a while, she calmed down and stopped crying. Veronica fell asleep soon afterwards.

Trester High School, Portland - May 12, 1999, morning.

The principal stood up behind her desk as Susan’s parents rose to leave. “I’m sorry you feel that this situation can’t be resolved. I’m sure if we gave Susan a little more time with the student counselor…”

“We’ve given it time. And I can’t see how anything can be resolved,” Mr. Walter said coolly. “I don’t know what kind of school you think you’re running here, but if you can allow to rapists to continue attending, at the risk of my daughter’s safety, then you give me no choice.” He reached for Susan’s hand and led her from the room.

Mrs. Walter, flustered, fiddled with her handbag. “I’m sorry, Ms Stoneburge. She turned and hurried after her husband.

The principal could only stare after them. Finally, she shook her head and sat back down, wearily resting her head in her hands.

In the hallway

Veronica pulled her books from her locker. A.J. stood behind her.

“I wish I’d been there,” A.J. said quietly, touching her friend’s shoulder.

Hanging her head, Veronica stopped what she was doing. Turning around to look at A.J. she held back the tears in her eyes. “It wouldn’t have done any good. By the time I found Susan, it was already too late.” In words that sounded like they had came from someone else, she added, “Wishing the past undone never did anyone any good.” Catching sight of her parents and Susan heading out of the school, she watched them go.

A.J. followed her gaze. “You never said anything about them seeing Stoneburge…”

“Nobody said,” Veronica replied, closing her locker. As she turned to leave, A.J. held her arm.

“Are you okay?” A.J. looked at her, concerned. A second bell sounded and the hallway became alive with activity.

Giving her a quick smile, Veronica shrugged it off. “I’m fine. Gotta get to class.”

“See you at lunch?” A.J. called after her.

But Veronica had already disappeared into the crowd.

LA Seattle Freelancers, present day

“I remember that as the last time I saw you at school, I waited in the cafeteria all lunch and you never showed,” A.J. said, reaching for a piece of pizza. The delivery had come about ten minutes ago, and nobody had touched it yet.

“So they never prosecuted anyone for your sister’s rape?” Logan thought that was odd. The boys had been caught; it sounded like they even had eyewitnesses. The school board might have been lenient, but surely they hadn’t gotten off scot-free.

“Jarod and Tony got off with warnings, and they were suspended from school for a week. Only one of boys got hit with juvenile detention. Will was the only one to physically rape Susie…” Veronica trailed off, remembering how cheated she’d felt. How horrified Susan had been upon learning that two of them would be returning to school.

“So your parents just took you out of school and left?” A.J. asked. She pulled out a soda from the plastic bag and opened it. Passing it to Veronica, she resumed eating her pizza.

Veronica took a sip of her soda and looked over at A.J. “Dad picked me up after my second class, and he had mom drive us straight to her sister’s. He stayed behind to move us. I never thought you could move so quickly. I tried calling you a few times, but your mom always said you were out. After awhile, I figured she just didn’t want me to call you.”

A.J. reached over and squeezed Veronica’s hand, sympathy in her eyes. “At first I was really upset. It was as though you just disappeared. I was the nerd at school, and I didn’t realize that you and Susie were really the only friends I had, till you were gone. Maybe mom thought she was protecting me or something. I wish I’d known.”

Logan hadn’t said anything for a while. He had been scribbling notes now and then. His list read: traumatized teen, victimized, withdrawn, depressed. Suicide was also written down, but with a series of question marks beside it. He tried to find a casual way to say it, but he knew it would be impossible to come across that way. “So, how did Susan...die?”

Veronica felt her throat tightening, and she took another sip of soda to settle her nerves. “After we moved, my parents enrolled us in a private girls' school. They even sent Susie to special counseling twice a week. One afternoon, she just didn’t meet me. We had a few different classes, so we’d always meet up after last bell to walk home together. I waited for ten minutes, before searching all over the campus. I called mom, and she called the police. Nobody could find her. It was the beginning of the nightmare for us.”

Walters' home, Rainier Valley - June 8, 2000, late afternoon

A young woman managed to knock once on the door before collapsing. She was pale and dehydrated. Her eyes looked sunken and her hair was matted with sweat and dirt. She had dark circles under her eyes and she was covered in bruises. They didn't look fresh. They were dark purple, almost black, but some had faded into a sickly yellow. She was wearing her school dress and it was missing a button. With the exception of her school blazer and hat, she was wearing exactly what she wore the day she disappeared.

Veronica’s mother answered the door and found her daughter on the porch. She screamed. Not knowing what to do other than cry hysterically, she picked her up and began rocking back and forth with Susie in her arms.

“It’s okay, sweetie. It’s okay, baby. You’re home now.”

“Mama,” Susie sobbed.

“Shush, you’ll be okay,” said Mrs. Walter, her face streaked with tears.

An hour later

Veronica came home from school to find police cars and an ambulance outside her house. She ran to the front door and saw her parents and her sister gathered in the sitting room.

Dropping her bag in the hall, she ran over to her sister. Hugging her tight, she didn't want to let go. “I knew you were still alive. I knew it.” Feeling her sister’s distress she pulled away.

“If I talk, they’ll kill my baby. You can’t protect me, and I can’t protect her. Not from them.” Susan was shaking. She looked to her mother, hoping she would understand. “Please, mom.”

“Susie, what are you talking about?”

A paramedic, who had been packing up her case nearby, spoke up. “Mrs. Walter, we checked Susan. She does have some internal scarring, but other than a slightly enlarged uterus, there’s nothing else that suggests a recent pregnancy. If she was assaulted, that would account for the scarring…”

“She’s been through a lot. I’m sure we could go over this another time,” said Mr. Walter interjected.

The detective and her partner looked at each other and nodded. “Okay. If you could come by the station with Susan, maybe tomorrow, so we could get an official statement.”

“Why? Do you know who’s responsible for taking our daughter?” Mr. Walter asked.

“A few girls went missing around the date Susan disappeared. We believe the cases could be related. A young women’s support group is something they all had in common,” said the female detective.

Mrs. and Mr. Walter looked at each other in concern. Veronica was crouched on the floor next to Susan, looking in amazement at her parents. They were the ones who signed her form to go.

“If you haven’t seen her already, I think you should speak to Susan’s counselor. Her name is Trista Monroe. She’s the one who suggested that Susan take the group sessions,” said Mr. Walter.

The girls’ bedroom – late evening

Later that evening, Susan lay curled in her bed, crying her eyes out. She was pale, a haunted look shadowing her eyes. Veronica knelt by her sister's bedside, and brushed the hair from Susan’s face.

“Susie, talk to me. I’ve missed you so much.” She held her sister’s hands in hers, they were ice cold.

“They took her from me, Ronnie,” said Susie. Tears streamed down her face. “I have to get her back. I have to protect her from them, but they’ll kill me if they think I’ve told anyone. They’re monsters, Ronnie. I have to get her back. I just don’t know how.”

Veronica felt torn. She touched her sister’s face. “I love you, Susie.” She paused, squeezing her sister’s hand.“Get some rest. I promise, everything is going to be okay.”

Susan closed her eyes and drifted into a restless slumber. Memories plagued her dreams as she fought for her daughter all over again.

A medical center, somewhere

Two orderlies restrained Susan between them. She was struggling and screaming. She was dressed in a white hospital gown, her belly hugely swollen.

As she continued kicking and scratching, they strapped her down to a table.

“We can’t wait any longer. I’m going to induce,” said one of the doctors.

“Put her under. I’m not going to work with her thrashing every chance she gets.” The doctor glared down at Susan, but she wasn't looking at him. Instead, she gazed at a nurse standing a few feet away.

Another man filled a needle with fluid. One of the orderlies continued to hold her down. Susan bit down on her lip; she wasn't screaming anymore.

As the drugs were injected into her arm, tears streamed down her face. Seconds later, she stopped resisting, and her body, which had been straining so hard against the bonds, went limp. Her fist fell open limply.

The doctors went to work on the girl and nobody noticed the nurse pick up something from the floor. It was a tiny little star, folded from a drinking straw. She looked at the girl on the table, then quickly pocketed the star.

A dark, sterile room

The nurse from before stood by Susan’s bedside. Susan lay fast asleep, and there was no longer a bump under the sheet, where there once was and still should have been. The lights were dim, and her skin was pale against the crisp white sheets. There were dark circles around her eyes. From the chart by the bed, it looked as though she’d been there for a while. The room held several beds, but only one was occupied. A monitor nearby beeped steadily.

Slowly, Susan opened her eyes and blinked a few times. Turning her head slightly, she saw the nurse nearby, and the beeping quickened. She reached out and grabbed her. “Let me see her,” she begged.

“I can’t, I’m sorry.” She tugged her arm free. “I’m so sorry.”

“Where is she?” Susan cried.

The nurse gave her an apologetic look as she quickly left the room.

Susan stared after her, a tear sliding from the corner of her eye. Turning her head, she noticed something on her bedside table. A little pink star.

The girls’ bedroom at the Walters' home

Susan jackknifed in her bed, looking around, both distressed and relieved that she was in her old bedroom. Her sister, who had fallen asleep in her chair, woke up at her sudden movement.

“Susie?” Veronica asked, concerned.

Reaching for the bra that lay on the floor, she tore open the small slit that was in one of the seams. Pulling out the star, she showed it to Veronica. “They didn’t give me anything while I was there, but I made this for her.”

“It’s pretty, Susie,” Veronica said, trying to hide the sadness in her voice. Holding the star in her hand, she looked at it, wondering if her sister was telling the truth. What if she wasn’t going crazy, as her parents feared? What if she really did have a baby somewhere?

“I never even got to see her face, Ronnie,” Susan said, tears welling in her eyes again.

Veronica hugged her sister, letting her cry. Her own tears glistening in her eyes. She didn’t know what was worse -- the idea that her sister could be telling the truth, or that maybe after all she’d been through, she really had gone crazy.

LA Seattle Freelancers – present day, early evening

“I should have believed her. Maybe if just one person had…maybe she would still be here.” Veronica clenched her fist, frustrated.

A.J. touched her hand. “You don’t know that.”

Veronica met A.J.’seyes. “My parents thought she was crazy. About a week after she came back, they sent her to a mental institution. I know for a fact that if she’d stayed at home with us, she’d still be here. We betrayed her. We sent her away when she needed us the most.They couldn’t handle seeing her cry all the time. They wanted her to just get over it. They thought she’d be happy to be home. That she’d be the same as before. Even before, she was never the same girl we grew up with, A.J. I wish so many things had turned out different. In a way, I keep thinking that maybe if we’d stayed in Portland…sure, things would have been tough, but it was home.”

Logan sat across from them on the sofa. He’d already taken off his jacket, and now he ran his hand through his hair. “What happened after your parents sent her away?”

“She was at the facility for a week. A gardener found her. She was hanging from her balcony window, the bed sheets tied around her neck. The coroner said she’d died from asphyxiation.” Veronica was so caught up in the memory, she didn’t notice her voice wavering and her hands shaking.

Logan got up and sat on the table. Reaching for her hands, he looked into her eyes. “Do you remember what type of bruising she had?”

Veronica went quiet. She had hoped that this question wouldn’t come up. She refused to believe that her sister had committed suicide. But this particular evidence seemed to point in exactly that direction. “She had V-bruising.”

Reading her eyes, Logan knew that she was thinking the same thing he was. There was no need to say it. “Where was she staying?”

“Jefferson County Women’s Retreat.” Veronica looked at Logan, her eyes silently pleading with him. “I know she didn’t kill herself, Logan. Why would she kill herself and abandon the baby she wanted so badly to get back?”

Resting his hands on his thighs, Logan sat up. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “I can look into it, but you might not like what we find out. Sometimes things are better left alone.”

Veronica shook her head. “I can’t let it go. I want to find out the truth.”

A.J.’s apartment, at the back of the office – late evening

Veronica was dressed in a pair of satin pajamas. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

A.J. crawled onto the other side of the bed, carefully holding a mug of steaming hot chocolate between her hands. “No problem. We’re heading out early tomorrow. It’d be a hassle to have to go across town to pick you up and then head out again.” She indicated to her cup. “You sure?”

“No. Not a big fan of hot drinks.” She picked up a brush by the bed and brushed out her hair.

“You loved mom’s hot cocoa with marshmallows.”

“That was Susan,” Veronica whispered. She stopped brushing and placed the brush back on the bedside table.

Silently cursing her monumental stupidity, A.J. rested her mug on the table and turned back to Veronica. “Logan’s great at what he does. And I promise, if there’s something out there, we’ll find it. And about him being so brutally honest -- he just does that so he never lets people down. You know, give them the hard facts so they don’t get their hopes up.”

“I think he does it to keep himself from getting too involved,” Veronica said, hugging a pillow.

A.J. looked thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe you’re right.” She collected her mug again and slid off the bed. “I’ve got a few things I’ve got to finish going over. Don’t wait up.”

Veronica smiled. “I won’t.”

Smiling back, A.J. closed the door behind her.

END OF ACT 2

On the road to Jefferson County - June 20, 2016, morning

Logan was driving and Veronica sat next to him in the front seat. A.J. sat in the back, grateful that Logan had gotten the hardtop back on. Just last week, they’d chased a lead downtown to the wharfs, and she could've sworn that by the time they got home, a bird had made a nest in her hair. Seeing the dust cloud up the windows, she was only more relieved he’d found someone to help him get his vehicle travel-worthy.

Veronica sat quietly, watching the scenery drift past the window. She looked over at Logan's serious expression, and she wondered what he was thinking about. She didn’t have to ponder long.

“Digging around isn’t going to be easy, Veronica. I’ve got tough questions that need answers, and I have a feeling that when we get to Jefferson, they’re not going to give us what we’re looking for.”

Nodding slightly, Veronica bit her lip and flickered a glance at Logan. “I guess you’ll be needing to grill me, then…”

“Unless we can prove otherwise, everything points to suicide,” Logan said grudgingly. “Did you ever get to read the autopsy report?”

Veronica shook her head. “But you know it’s possible to make a hanging look like a suicide.”

Logan pondered that theory for a moment. “Then do you know of anyone who’d want Susie dead?”

“She was always afraid that the people who kidnapped her would be back to kill her. What if they did?” Veronica felt sick to her stomach and sat up in her seat. She needed fresh air, but it was so dusty outside there was no chance of winding down the window.

“Don’t most of these type of facilities have surveillance? If somebody had killed Susan, wouldn’t they have it on tape?”

The more he thought about it, the more this theory was sounding like a real possibility. But A.J. had a point. Unless it was an inside job, there’d be no way they could have avoided being caught. And if that were true, then they’d be lucky to get anything out of the staff at the facility. Not to mention that they were investigating a death that was over 15 years old.

Parking lot, Jefferson County Women’s Retreat

Logan and Veronica got out of the car, while A.J. grabbed her bag from the back. After A.J. climbed out, Logan locked the Jeep.

“Veronica and I will see Dr. Matthew," Logan told A.J. "See if you can take a look around, find out where Susan stayed, who cared for her. I’d be interested to know if they kept surveillance tapes.”

Pulling her bag over her shoulder, A.J. smiled. “If this place has any secrets, I’ll find out.”

Veronica and Logan headed toward the main building and A.J. waited behind. When they’d gone a fair way off, she headed across the parking lot in the other direction. Finding the wall of climbing roses she’d spotted from the road, she pulled out her pocketknife and started cutting.

Dr. Bruce Matthew’s office

“Thank you for seeing us on such short notice, Doctor.” Veronica extended her hand to the doctor. “Veronica Walter, and this is my friend, Logan Cale.”

“Doctor,” Logan said as he shook the doctor’s hand.

Dr Matthew motioned for them to sit, then sat down himself. “For a moment there I thought I was seeing a ghost. You look so much like your sister.”

“Well, we were twins.” Veronica couldn’t hide the falter in her voice as she referred to her sister’s and her bond in the past tense.

The doctor folded his hands on the desk and leaned forward. “I have to say, I was most curious when I got your call this morning.”

Logan flipped open his notebook and clicked his pen. “We’re looking into Susan’s past. It’s still a very raw memory for the family, and we’re hoping to find some closure.”

The doctor leaned back in his chair, regarding them thoughtfully. “I’m not sure how you think I can help. I saw Susan twice before she died, and I can’t disclose--”

“Doctor-patient privilege doesn’t extend beyond death, Doctor,” Logan interjected.

Veronica shot him a silencing look, and tried a smoother approach. “I just want to know how she was feeling, Doctor,” she said imploringly. “I know it couldn’t have been easy on you, losing a patient.”

After Logan’s remark, a dark look had momentarily crossed the doctor’s face. He seemed to relax a little as Veronica explained her request.

“She was a very troubled girl. From the limited contact I did have with her, I noted that she was chronic depressive, paranoid and obsessive.”

“Obsessive?” Veronica repeated.

The doctor seemed to hesitate before answering, and Logan stopped writing to watch him.

The doctor glanced at Logan before looking back at Veronica and answering, “She never spoke much, in session or out. When she did, it was usually centered around a baby she thought she’d lost. The police forwarded me copies of their reports when your parents brought her here. There never was a baby.”

Veronica didn’t say anything, so Logan spoke up. “Was there ever any sign that she’d be a danger to herself? “

The doctor didn’t seem to like Logan’s question, and he frowned before answering. “Where are you going with this? Are you implying I knew she’d kill herself?”

Logan met his eyes. “It’s a just a question, Doctor.”

“I don’t appreciate being accused of something I had no knowledge of. I think we’re done. I have a conference I’ve got to get ready for.” He gave Veronica a slightly sympathetic look. “Ms. Walter, I’m sorry I couldn’t help you further.”

“Thank you for your time,” Veronica said.

Outside the closed door, Logan apologized for being so direct. “He’s hiding something.”

“Well we’ll never know now, will we?” Veronica said, frustrated.

“He didn’t kill her Susan, but he might be protecting the person who did.” Logan put his pen inside his jacket, and touched Veronica’s arm. “We’ll find out more, I promise.”

Reception desk

A.J. smiled down at the receptionist. Reading upside down, she scanned the patient list. “I’m here to visit, uh, my aunt.”

“Oh, how nice.” The receptionist smiled. “They're lovely. I’m sure she’ll love them.” Reaching for a ledger, she passed it to A.J. “Just fill in your name, your aunt's name, and then sign here.”

“Thank you.” A.J. rested the baby pink roses on the bench, and scribbled in her entry. Smiling at the receptionist again, she passed her the ledger and collected her flowers. “First time here,” she said sheepishly. “Where can I find a directory?”

“A little way down that corridor. It’s on the left wall.”

“Thanks.”

The gardens, outside the main building

A.J. had found the room of the lady she was supposedly visiting, and it was empty. She left the roses on the bedside table.

Coincidentally, Mrs. R. Silver had a balcony room. A.J. snapped pictures of the room interior and the balcony. The railing was rusty, and the balcony doors were glass. She wondered how safe they considered that to be. Glass, rusty railings -- weren’t they caring for people who were seriously troubled?

Finding her way outside, A.J. stared up at the building from the gardens. The balconies were all visible from the garden. She found it hard to believe that nobody would have seen anything. There were even cameras in the bedroom and the corridors. The more she saw, the more uneasy she felt. There was something very wrong about all this.

A noise from behind her nearly made her jump out of her skin. An elderly looking man stood in the entrance to the hedge maze. He wore green overalls and a checkered flannel shirt. His skin was well tanned; he looked like he’d spent most of his life in the sun.

“Miss,” he whispered conspiratorially. He stayed in the shadow of the hedge, but motioned for A.J. to come closer.

A.J. hesitated and glanced around. There were a few people around, but nobody close by. She closed the small distance between them and he held out a small package to her.

“Don’t open it till you leave.” He didn’t let go when she grasped it, and his other hand closed over hers. “Give it to the girl.”

A.J. felt her heart almost leap out of her chest as he held her hand. When he let go suddenly, she was relieved. She turned her head to see if anyone had seen them, but it looked as though nobody had even noticed their exchange. “Who…?”

The man was already gone. She entered the maze to search for him, but saw no sign of him as she peered down the long line of hedge in both directions. Perplexed, she held the package near her ear and shook it. It rattled a little, but as tempted as she was, she didn’t open it. Instead, she lifted the flap of her satchel and unzipped it. Putting the package in, she closed her bag and went in search of Logan and Veronica. They had to be done by now.

Outside the facility

A.J. exited the building and spotted Logan and Veronica headed for the parking lot. She jogged to catch up with them. "How’d it go?" she asked.

“Nothing ground breaking, but the Doc’s hiding something,” Logan replied.

“Seems like the whole place is. Sorry, Ronnie, but it gives me the creeps.”

Veronica stopped by the car door and looked up at the building. A shiver raced down her spine, and she looked away.

“Are you okay?” A.J. asked her, touching her shoulder.

Turning her head, Veronica nodded. “Just nerves.”

Logan unlocked the doors, and when A.J. climbed in he met her eyes in the rearview mirror. “How’d you do?"

“Layout, some pictures, and this.” She pulled the package out of her backpack and passed it to Veronica in the front seat. “A maintenance guy gave it to me. He disappeared on me before I could get a name.”

Logan started the engine and reversed out of his space. Veronica tore off the wrapping to find a well-taped up cardboard box inside. Running her nail along the opening, she lifted the lid.

It was a videotape.

A.J. looked out the back window; they had just left the compound gates.

Logan’s apartment, Fogle Towers – early afternoon

Logan kicked the door shut behind him, carrying a VCR. “We have it for an hour. I can dub it to CD while we watch. Mrs. Moreno was in the middle of watching a classic, but she was nice enough to lend it to us for our emergency.”

“I seriously don’t know how she puts up with living so close to you,” A.J. remarked.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Logan asked, completely bewildered and slightly miffed.

“Well, you’re always borrowing things from her, and she has to listen to your droning melancholy music all day long.”

“Hey, it’s not all melancholy. And besides, they’re all hits,” Logan argued.

“To you, maybe,” A.J. mused.

“Give me that.” Logan glared at her and took the videotape from her.

Veronica watched their exchange, amused. She walked over from where she’d been lounging in the doorway and took a seat by A.J. on the sofa.

Logan crouched behind the television, hooking up various cables, then disappeared into his study to return with another recorder. After he finished setting up, he sat back and inserted the tape.

While they waited for it to start, A.J. described the man to Veronica. “The guy who gave me the tape looked to be in his 60s. He was a little shorter than Logan and had a medium build. Ring any bells?”

“I only went to the place once. The day the police, the coroner, and the detectives turned up for Susan. I don’t remember all that much about it except that I hated that my parents had sent her there.”

“It’s starting,” Logan said, and soon the blank blue screen fuzzed to a black and white image. It looks like the camera had recorded in night vision.

A.J. recognized the room to be very similar to the one she’d seen earlier in the day. They watched as the door opened and light from the hall momentarily illuminated the figure in the bed.

“It’s Susie,” Veronica said, surprised.

The nurse moved toward the bed, where Susan had sat up. She struggled against the nurse and had fought her off, until the nurse climbed onto the bed and pushed her down. The nurse used the restraints on either side of the bed to restrict Susan, then lay across her chest, holding her still. She injected something into Susan’s arm, and moments later her head slumped as she fell limp.

The nurse then got up and opened the balcony doors. She wiped the door handles with her apron before leaving the room.

A few minutes passed, and another figure entered the room and dragged Susan, along with her bed sheets, outside.

Veronica studied the image, only blinking when the tape suddenly cut off and loud static blared from the speakers.

Logan stopped the tape. What they’d witnessed seemed to have shocked them all into silence.

“Explains the bruising,” A.J. suggested solemnly.

Veronica folded her arms across her chest, to keep herself from shivering. A chill had slithered down her spine, and she closed her eyes, trying to erase the scene from her mind. No matter how much she wanted it, nothing could ease the ache of losing her sister. And knowing she had been killed didn’t ease the guilt she felt over Susan’s death.

Logan took a seat on the arm of the sofa next to Veronica and took her hand.

Veronica crumbled, tears rolled down her cheeks. She looked up at Logan. “What do I do now?”

“We take another look at that autopsy report.” Logan inclined his head and looked at A.J.

“I’m on it,” A.J. agreed, nodding at Logan. Touching Veronica’s shoulder, she said, “I’m here for you on this, okay? You know that, right?”

Veronica wiped her eyes and smiled at her childhood friend. “I know.”

A.J. gave her a warm smile. “Good.” She got to her feet, and walked to the doorway of Logan’s office. “I’ll make a few calls, and then I’ll need to use your computer.”

“Go ahead.” Logan pulled out his cell and started dialing. “I’m going see if Dr. Matthew would like to give us some answers, now that we have proof it wasn’t a suicide.”

Coroner’s Office, Seattle

Veronica and A.J. were waiting to see one of the M.E.’s. A young doctor came out of the double doors and approached them.

“Hi, A.J. Sorry you had to wait so long, but I had to get cleaned up. Messy case.” The woman shifted the clipboard to her other arm and extended her hand to Veronica. “Dr. Beverly Shankar.”

“Veronica Walter.”

“Bev, thanks for looking into this for us. It’s an old case that’s taken a new turn. We have reason to believe that it was murder and not suicide.”

“It took a bit of digging to get a copy of the report. It’s strange, the exam wasn’t done in any of our local offices. The examiner’s name is Dr. Travis Dean. His name didn’t sound familiar to me, so I checked it out. Other than a short stint in New York for about six months, he doesn’t work as an M.E.”

A.J. took the file Beverly handed her and opened the cover. On the left were pictures of Susan, clipped to the inside of the file.

Veronica stood next to A.J. and traced her sister’s face. Suddenly she felt as if a jolt of electricity had shot through her fingertips. Hazy images flashed before her eyes. A man hovered in front of her, but she couldn’t make out his face. He was tying something, then suddenly her surroundings seemed to rush by her and then stop with a jerk. She saw the garden sway for a split second before darkness enveloped her. She was looking at the ground, and heard A.J.’s voice.

“Ronnie? Are you all right?” A.J. closed the folder.

Shaken out of her vision, Veronica realized the two women were staring at her with concern.

“She was your sister, wasn’t she?” Beverly asked.

“Yes,” Veronica replied blankly. The garden seemed familiar…the man’s appearance…she was seeing her sister’s murderer. The thought suddenly made her feel faint. The vision she’d had a few days before. At Susan’s grave. She was seeing her sister’s memories. She was remembering through Susan's eyes.

A.J. felt Veronica sway, and caught her shoulders. “I think we’ll get going.” She gave Beverly a grateful look. “Can I borrow this?”

“Sure. Get it back to me as soon as you’re done. I’m very sorry for your loss, Veronica.”

Veronica nodded weakly. She appreciated the M.E.’s help, but the sooner she got out of there, the better she’d feel. The slight stench of decay in the room, combined with the gray, cold atmosphere, weren’t doing much to help the nausea building in her stomach.

On the street outside the Coroner’s office

A.J. unlocked Veronica’s door before rounding the front of the car and getting in the driver’s side.

Veronica took the file from the dash and flipped to the report. It read, “Larynx crushed, died from asphyxiation. Traces of antidepressants: Fluoxetine, Oxazepam, and Chloral Hydrate. Drug levels too low to induce hypnosis or unconsciousness, victim would have been conscious at time of death. Light scars on the wrists and ankles. Dark V-bruising on neck…”

“You don’t have to read that…” A.J. started.

“I need to,” Veronica interrupted.

“Okay.” A.J. glanced at her again. She seemed better. She wasn’t as pale as before. Still, she was concerned that Veronica was getting immersed in the past. She seemed to be coping well, but just as a precaution, she made a mental note to keep a closer eye on her friend. Starting the car, A.J. pulled out of the space and onto the road.

Logan’s apartment, Fogle Towers

Logan sat at his desk, talking at his screen. An hour ago, he’d been advised that Dr. Matthew was unavailable. It had taken a lot of perseverance to finally get him on the phone. “So, you’re not denying you gave her the medication without her parents’ consent?”

“Look, I’m sorry about what happened. If I’d have known she was in trouble, I would have done something about it. She’s dead -- what do you expect me to do?”

Gritting his teeth, Logan refrained from spelling it out for him. Take responsibility! “A young girl died in your care. You were responsible for her well-being. Tell me everything you know, and I might take your cooperation into consideration when I report my findings to Miss Walter’s family.”

“Mr. Cale, I’m being completely honest with you when I say that other than a referral I had from her doctor, you know as much as I do.”

“Who was her doctor?”

“Dr. Travis Dean. I’ll forward you a copy of the referral. It has his contact information. I only spoke to him once. Actually, he was the one to call me.”

Logan leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. Veronica had never mentioned why her parents had chosen Jefferson, or that Susan had seen another doctor. It certainly added some new leads to a case that seemed to be throwing more questions than answers their way. “Thank you for your help, Dr. Matthew.”

After ending the call, Logan reviewed his notes. He still wanted to find out the nurse’s name. Maybe the medication was a routine thing. Maybe it was just a coincidence that the assailant appeared after her. He dialed another number and waited to be connected.

“Jefferson Country Women’s Retreat, how may I direct your call?”

“I’d like to speak to the administrator, please,” Logan said politely.

“One moment, sir.”She put him on hold.

Classical music sounded pleasantly in his ear until she returned.

“May I ask who’s calling?”

“Logan Cale. I’m investigating a possible homicide and I have evidence that your boss might like to see.”

There was no more stalling. He was put on hold and a second later the line was picked up again.

“Mr. Cale? Mrs. Saunders speaking. I’m the administrator of the facility. What is it you’d like to talk to me about?”

“It’s an old case, Mrs. Saunders, but we have new evidence that could prove that one of your patients was murdered.”

“I’d like to see what you have, and I’ll help in any way I can. How long ago are we talking?”

“Sixteen years.”

In the car, on the way to Rainer Valley

A.J. was driving and dialing numbers on her car phone. After two rings, Logan picked up. He sounded agitated.

“What have you got?”

“Beverly was a big help. We got a copy of the report, but it doesn’t give us much in the way of supporting our case. It doesn’t make sense. The drug test came back low. The M.E. said there wasn’t anything present that could have caused her to lose consciousness, which contradicts what we have on tape.”

“I didn’t make a lot of progress either. Dr. Matthew couldn’t give me anything new, and the hospital administrator could only vaguely remember the two nurses on duty that night. But she doubts either of them could have done something to hurt Susan. I’ve got a name that I’m going to look into though -- Dr. Travis Dean. He was supposedly the one that referred Susan.”

“I don’t believe in coincidences. Dr. Dean was the one who signed the M.E.’s report.” A.J. said, feeling decidedly uneasy. “We’re headed to Ronnie’s parents' place in Rainer Valley. I’ll give you a call later.”

“A.J., my parents never requested a referral," Veronica told her. "They got a brochure in the mail about the place and went to check it out.”

A.J. gripped the steering wheel more tightly. The more they learned, the more sinister everything looked. Veronica’s instincts were right: someone had killed Susan. But why go to all that trouble over a 16-year-old girl? Obviously someone had something to hide. Something too big to risk letting out.

END OF ACT 3

Walters' family home, Rainer Valley – June 20, 2016, late afternoon

Veronica’s father bristled, his face red with anger. “If I’d have known that you’d come home to bring this up, I would have told you not to come at all.”

He stood up abruptly, but Veronica’s mother grabbed his arm. “Sit down, Jason. You obviously stopped listening a long time ago. Veronica has never brought this up, not ever. And if she’s talking about it now, it’s probably with good reason.” She looked appealingly at her daughter, as if asking if she was right.

“Mom, Dad, I never would have looked into this if I hadn’t felt so burdened by it. I was young, but don’t think I didn’t feel what you were going through, too. It hurt not to be able to talk about my sister, to pretend she never existed,” Veronica’s voice wavered with her last sentence, and she pushed the report across the coffee table. “I never really learned how she died until now.”

“Do you know why an M.E. didn’t perform the autopsy?” A.J. asked

Mrs. Walter looked confused, but Veronica’s father answered, “Travis was an old family friend. The girls used to see him when they were younger, but after we moved, we lost touch. When Susan died, I asked him to examine her. I didn’t want some stranger cutting up my daughter.” It was clear that despite his tough exterior, Mr. Walter was still very emotional over his daughter’s death.

“If he hadn’t called after hearing about Susan, I don’t think we would have thought to ask him,” Veronica’s mother said.

A.J. raised an eyebrow at that, but didn’t say anything.

“Have you heard from him lately? Do you know if I could contact him?” Veronica asked.

“We tried calling him a few years back to invite him to a Christmas fundraiser, but we couldn’t get a hold of him,” Mrs. Walter said.

Veronica’s shoulders slumped slightly, a frown creasing her brow. “Did he have an office around here?”

“No,” Mr. Walter said, confused. “Why?”

“Dr. Matthew from the Women’s Retreat said he received a referral from Dr. Dean.” Veronica sent a questioning look across at A.J, then frowned as she looked over at her parents. They looked as perplexed as she felt.

State Records Office, Seattle – late afternoon

Martin walked down the aisles, reading references numbers as he passed. “M to Mc, 1000 to 7500,” he murmured to himself. Glancing down at the paper in his hand, he read again, “Dr. Travis Dean.” Looking across at the aisles lining the opposite wall, he spotted the archives he was looking for.

Crossing to a computer terminal, he logged on and requested a search for Dr. Travis Dean. The results appeared -- six entries for Travis Dean in the state of Washington, but none of them were listed as "Dr." The reference numbers were all between D 250-359. Finding the cabinet with the files he was looking for, he rolled the ladder across and climbed up to pull out the drawer.

Flicking through the files, he couldn’t find anything that looked relevant. He pulled out his cell, dialed and held it to his ear.

“Logan…yeah, I’m looking into it right now. I could do with some more details. So far no luck…McIntosh & Associates, huh? Okay, I’ll keep an eye out for that reference…yeah, thanks…I’ll call you when I find something.”

He put the phone back in his jacket and resumed searching through the files.

Jamaica Blue - evening

Logan sat in a booth at the back. He could see the bar and the entrance from where he was, and when he spotted Martin, he waved him over.

Martin slid into the booth. He pulled an envelope out of his jacket and passed it across the table. He looked uneasy.

“Everything okay?” Logan asked, raising an eyebrow at his friend, then lifting his hand to summon a waitress. When she approached, he pulled a five-dollar bill out of his wallet and gave it to her, motioning to Martin.

“Same as usual, sir?” She smiled warmly at Martin.

Martin managed a smile of his own and nodded. “Health nut,” he confessed.

Logan just rolled his eyes and sipped his beer. “If it didn’t look like it worked for you, I’d say you were wasting your time. Seriously, cold, thick tomato soup, that’s what it tastes like.”

“The only reason I like this place is because they cater for those who don’t indulge in alcohol.” Martin's eyes flickered to the yellow packet still on the table. “About your guy -- I’ve come to learn that if a person is that hard to find, it’s because he’s being protected or he's got something to hide.”

“In this case, I think he’s the bad guy.” Logan pulled the package from the table, and put it in his bag. “Thanks, Shoei.”

His friend shifted uneasily and hesitated in his reply. “Wasn’t a problem.”

The waitress reappeared with a glass filled with a bright red liquid and a celery stick sticking out of it. She placed it on the table in front of Martin. “Enjoy.”

“Thanks,” Martin said, but instead of drinking, he slowly rotated the glass on the table, studying it.

Logan chuckled. “Changed your mind?”

Martin looked up, a serious look in his eyes. “How’s A.J.?”

“She’s fine? But why don’t you ask her yourself?” Logan surveyed his friend curiously.

They’d all been friends for a long time. He and A.J. had met at a journalism conference halfway through college. They’d hit it off immediately, with their mutual interest in investigative journalism. At the time, she'd been studying computer science and physics, with a minor in journalism. Martin and Logan had taken classes together in their first year at Yale. With their love of American culture and sports, they became fast friends. Martin had played football before a knee injury forced him out.

Logan had stayed in contact with A.J. all through college, and when he moved back to Washington, they’d gotten together to start a small enterprise in freelance journalism. Every now and again, the three of them would meet up for drinks, but work had piled up lately and they hadn’t seen a lot of each other.

“A.J.’s working this case, too. I think it’s as important to her as it is to our client. Well, she’s not exactly a client…”

“Never is…” Martin interjected.

Logan gave him a look. “Are you going to tell me, or do I have to figure out what’s bugging you? What’s up, Martin?”

Even though he seemed troubled, Martin was reluctant to answer.

“My boss is breathing down my neck. He started asking questions about that judge you asked me to look into. I love my job, Logan. And I know you’ve got the best intentions. I respect what you do…it’s just…” Martin clenched his jaw.

“Forget about it,” Logan said sincerely. “We can work on other avenues…”

“That’s just it. You’ll have A.J. get it. It’s risky, Logan. Not to mention illegal.” He leaned forward and whispered the last part.

“And you getting it for us isn’t?” Logan countered. “We know the stakes, but the truth is more important.”

Martin let out a sigh. “I hate it when you remind me why we hooked up.”

Logan smiled, and let out a chuckle. “The never-ending pursuit of truth and justice…”

“...whatever the odds,” Martin concluded. He lifted his glass and drained the contents. Wiping his lips with a napkin, he took a bite of the celery. “Tell A.J. I said hey. I better get going. Early start tomorrow.”

Nodding, Logan pushed away his glass and got out of the booth. He reached over and slapped Martin on the shoulder. “Catch you later.”

“Yeah.” Martin smiled as they both headed out.

A.J.’s apartment – late evening

Dropping the dirty dishes she was carrying in the sink, A.J. dove for the phone.

“Hey.”

“Hey. So, did you learn anything?” A.J. turned and leaned against the kitchen sink. She held the phone to one ear, and with her free hand tucked her hair behind the other.

Veronica had gone to the bathroom, so A.J. was alone in the kitchen. It felt strange sharing her apartment with someone. She hadn’t lived with anyone since college. And even then, her roommate had been a party animal. Kind of reminded her a little of one of Logan’s girlfriend’s, Daphne. Not that she’d ever tell Logan, but she always though the girl was a bit too much of a free spirit. She knew artists were usually an odd bunch, but Daphne could be a little too...How could she put it? Whimsical.

It seemed the only thing Daphne ever devoted herself to was her art. Everything else was just filler for the moment. Which made A.J. curious as to what the connection between Veronica and Logan had been about. Logan never mentioned her at all, which made her wonder whether if they had unresolved issues.

In his apartment, Logan stood at the window, looking out at the city skyline. He could see A.J. in his mind’s eye. Probably curled up enjoying a tub of ice cream or ready to munch on something. “I met up with Shoei, and he was asking about you.”

“Really? It’s not like he’s not welcome to drop by,” she chuckled. “Wait, don’t tell me. He was going on about me doing investigative work again…” She took Logan’s non-answer as a yes.

Leaning against the column by the window, Logan saw his reflection in the glass. He frowned in surprise at how serious he appeared. Arms folded across his chest, brow furrowed, sleeves rolled up. “I think he’s just feeling pressure from all sides. Maybe if you talk to him, he might not feel so torn over it.”

“I’ll try and see him this week. So, anything on the doc?” A.J. pulled the chair from the table and straddled it. She put her arms over the backrest and picked up an apple from the fruit bowl.

Turning from the window, he walked to the kitchen. “Seems the practice listed on the referral was just a front. Although we did get the name of a doctor he worked with in Seattle. The guy said that before Dean came to Seattle, he worked for a while on a SAC base in Wyoming. Dr. Dean gets around. It’s all we’ve got to go on at the moment. I called Shoei and he’s going to look into if for us.”

“Ronnie’s parents knew him when they were living in Portland, but they lost touch. They have no way of contacting him. He called them when he heard about Susan,” A.J. said.

“This guy’s sounding more shady by the minute.”

“I’m starting to wonder if he had anything to do with Susie’s disappearance.” A.J. mouthed Logan, as Veronica entered the room. And Veronica took the chair opposite her.

“I’m gonna call it a night and try not to think about it. 'Night, A.J.”

“Good night.” A.J. pushed the ‘power off’ button on her handset and put it on the table. Her apple was still in her hand, untouched. She replaced it in the fruit bowl and looked up to meet Veronica’s gaze.

“How's Logan?” Veronica asked.

A.J. smiled and replied jokingly, “He’s great. He’s with me, how could he not be?”

A blush spread across Veronica’s cheeks and her lashes momentarily hid her eyes from view. “That’s not what I meant--”

“I’m just teasing. He obsesses over work, his uncle is still riding him about getting a real job, and he hasn’t had a date in months. Still the same ol’ Logan?”

Veronica’s blush deepened, but she laughed. “I guess.”

“He’s got a friend of ours looking into Dr. Dean. Hopefully we’ll know more soon.” A.J. got up and went to the sink. “Do you want a coffee, hot chocolate?”

Getting up herself, Veronica shook her head. “No, thanks. I think I’m gonna head to bed.”

“Okay.” A.J. watched Veronica leave and then picked up the kettle to fill it with water.

District Attorney’s office - June 21, 2016, 1.30 p.m.

Logan sat in Martin’s office. Martin entered the office and closed the door behind him.

“I don’t know what to hit you with first. Good news or bad news?” Martin asked, dropping his briefcase by his desk and unlocking the filing cabinet.

Shrugging, Logan rubbed his palms together. “Good’d be nice.”

Martin lent on the back of his chair. “Put in a few calls out of state. Your guy did work for a SAC base in Gillette, Wyoming, only the place closed down in ’09. The Pulse has scrambled a lot of databases. All I could get was that he worked there as a med tech.” Loosening his tie, Martin took his suit jacket off and hung it over the back of the chair.

“The bad news?” Logan prompted.

“Managed to find family in Montana. Your guy’s not going to be answering to anyone, anytime soon. He’s dead.”

“Dead? When?” Logan asked, frustration evident on his face.

“Died in a boating accident, May 2000.” He turned around and opened the filing cabinet. He pulled out a document. “Here.”

It was a death certificate.

Logan sat back in his chair and scratched his head. “Dead end.”

“I’m sorry this didn’t pan out,” Martin said sincerely.

“Definitely not what we wanted, but it’s something,” Logan said regretfully.

END OF ACT 4

South Lake Union Park – late afternoon

Veronica was sitting on a park bench by the lake. She noticed Logan approaching and waited for him.

“Sorry I took so long. The sector police hassled me over my registration. It’s only two days out of date. I just haven’t had a chance to stick the new one on. You’d think they’d have bigger things to worry about.” Logan sat down next to her on the seat, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

“I remember this place was supposed to be turned into a Heritage Center. Somewhere families could bring their kids for picnics. A day at the park, canoeing on the lake, but then the Pulse happened. It did more than just knock technology back a decade. It took people’s lives, their dreams…” Veronica watched the rays of orange sunlight in the rippling water. “A.J. told me you guys have hit a dead end.”

“The doctor’s dead, but maybe there’s a connection somewhere we just haven’t made yet. The base he worked on…we could look into that.”

Veronica shook her head and looked at Logan. “I don’t want to get into a turf war. Poking around military operations never gave anyone any joy. I know Susan was murdered. Maybe one of these days someone’ll slip up, or grow a conscience. Dr. Dean can’t be the only one who knew something.”

Logan nodded.

“One man already paid the price for his connections. All I wanted was for Susie to rest in peace…”

Sitting beside her, Logan felt her pain, but wasn’t sure what he could say to comfort her. “My mom used to say that the universe was right on schedule. Everything happens for a reason. But...remembering that never eased the guilt over not being there when she needed me.”

Veronica looked across at him. Her eyes were filled with tears. “I just miss her so much.”

Logan pulled her close and hugged her tight. She sobbed into his shoulder.

Pulling back, she took a deep breath and wiped her eyes. “I just wonder, you know? Someone went to the extent to kill a 16-year-old girl. What were they hiding? How could she possibly hurt them? What if Susan does have a daughter out there, somewhere?”

“If that’s true, it’d give them good reason to cover their tracks.”

“Wherever she is, I hope she’s okay,” Veronica said hopefully.

Logan, watching the sunset with Veronica, wondered how many lives were just like their own. Just taking one day at a time, searching for the lives they once had, believing that the world could be what it once was. If enough people believed it, it could happen.

END OF EPISODE