#event four.

with everyone present in agreement, a plan is hatched -- next time you meet at maria’s house, you’ll do what you can to distract her, get her to leave you be, and conduct a house-wide search for anything that looks even remotely suspicious. with alice’s court date fast approaching, desperation is almost tangible.

-

“so,” maria hums, tapping the tabletop delicately before settling into her seat at the head of the table, “what have we got so far? from the top.”

“caleb was a douchebag,” rich says, but he’s not being facetious -- it feels more like he’s stating a fact than acting deliberately abrasive, “and he hurt al, bad. they argued at the club, and a bouncer saw alice leave out the front exit.”

“i watched caleb follow her out,” maria continues, shifting through a small notebook that appears to be blank, “and that was the last anyone inside the club saw of them, right?”

there’s a hush over the table. “you talked to a girl in the bathroom by the back exit a little after it happened,” mystral says, referring to maria. “that’s pretty close to the back alley. did she look off, to you?”

maria looks taken aback for a second. with everyone looking at her, freddie’s sly glance to brooke goes unnoticed -- brooke stands quietly and makes her way to the fridge, looking, for all the world, like she just wants another drink. “i -- i don’t think so. what are you suggesting?”

freddie chimes in, then: “the back door and the bathroom are close together, right? maybe someone came through the back and went straight to the bathroom to wait a little while. you’re the one that talked to her that night. did she look suspicious at all?”

maria shifts, the permanent crease between her eyebrows deepening. “i--”

before she can finish, the sound of glass shattering floods the house, brooke squealing to accompany the ruckus. when you turn to look at the source of the noise, you find brooke stood in a pool of milk, wincing. “god, i’m sorry!”

for some reason, maria looks a lot more comfortable now. “that’s okay,” she says, standing in the same instant. “i’ll grab my coat and we can go and get some more. we can take my car -- is that okay?”

as a matter of fact, it is. brooke glances at freddie quickly, is met with his encouraging nod. “yeah! yeah, of course.”

-

it takes around ten minutes for maria to leave with brooke, her car pulling out of the driveway almost achingly slowly. as soon as they’re gone, freddie snaps into action, his voice taking on a new, powerful air -- he’s no longer the man everyone has come to know. he’s freddie redchester, attorney at law, and he knows exactly what he wants to find. “okay. split into twos and take a room each. search more personal places first -- her room, the closets, see if she has a basement or an attic. we meet back here once we think we’re done. michael, you keep tabs on brooke. text her, ask her to let us know when maria’s on her way back. hypothetically, burns would be our supervisor here -- vouching we’re not doing anything illegal. let’s go.”

there’s nothing else to say, after that. people group into twos or go solo, as instructed, and shift through the harding household with meticulous precision. 

freddie and emmett take her bedroom, being careful to keep things as neat as possible despite their rummaging. it takes freddie lifting the bed itself to find anything -- there’s a hollow compartment in the base, and in this compartment is a shoebox. once opened, the shoes inside are almost unremarkable ( simple pink heels with a fur trim ), but, upon closer inspection, something seems off. there are brown speckles on the fabric and the decoration, a splatter that’s too unnatural to be design. “blood?” emmett asks, and freddie can only grimace, putting the lid back on the box and picking it up carefully.

in the sitting room, jake sifts through drawers and cabinets indiscriminately. it’s the last place he checks, a large ottoman by the hallway, that yields something of interest: a gun, presumably owned by the harding family. what type, jake isn’t exactly sure, but its six chambers are unmistakable. all but one are filled with a bullet. thinking quickly, grabbing a cloth from the kitchen, jake takes the gun from the ottoman and returns to the rendezvous area, placing it neatly on the table in waiting.

other, smaller items are found by mystral -- white gloves that are torn at the palm, and an empty box previously used to store bullets. 

when you meet up again, the atmosphere in the room is drastically different. rich’s transformation is most obvious: he’s giddy, grinning, barely able to keep still. “holy shit,” he breathes every now and again at random, surveying the newfound evidence with a thrilled kind of awe. “holy shit.”

freddie seems to understand his emotion, smiling himself. “well,” he says, casting a glance around the room in that special way he has, looking ever single one of you in the eyes, “i think we have our case.”