HOSTILITY

My books spread out in front of me, I attempted to multitask over lunch. If I could get homework done over my adobo, that was one less thing to worry about.

Honestly, the distraction of school was welcome. Anything that wasn't thinking about Natalie was welcome.

Though, if there was somewhere private, I would take the opportunity to nap instead of plugging numbers into formulas.

"Jane?" Kate leaned into my peripheral vision, inching tentatively closer and closer until she was across the picnic table from me.

As if to make up for yesterday, she looked especially doll-like now. Perfect dark curls contrasted against her porcelain pale skin, lipstick in a color I didn't know people could actually wear to school, and just the right shaped face made her look like she would fit in on a little girl's shelf. Kate Haumann might've looked like she would readily slap Rhys across the face last night, but now she had the right expression of innocence and concern to remind me of painted porcelain faces.

"You feel better today?" I asked.

"I'm fine," she insisted, like I hadn't watched her run out of a haunted house, "I have a ... I need to do something but I probably shouldn't go alone."

"Okay... you want me? Not Dean?" Rhys was a perfectly fine option too, but I wouldn't blame her if she didn't want to talk to him at the moment. Or ever again.

"What about Dean?" Innocence turned to defensiveness in a heartbeat.

"Nothing! You've just known each other longer, that's all," I replied. That logic could easily be reversed. She could not want Dean along precisely because they knew each other longer.

Kate finally sat down, folding her hands in front of her. I hoped it wasn't another trip underground for Kate's sake. The dread of last night wasn't on her face, but she didn't exactly looked relaxed.

"I'll go, if that's what you want," I said, trying to finish my lunch to give myself something else to think about.

"Thank you." Kate nodded. "I can't go today, but tomorrow?"

I was flattered she would think I made other plans, as if people looked at me like anything but the outsider who found Natalie Driscoll dead.

"Are you going to tell me where we're going?" I asked, half-expecting the same treatment I got from Rhys yesterday.

"To talk to someone who might know something. I don't know..." Kate stopped herself. Did she not know if it was a good lead? Did she not know whether or not it was a dead end like the Greyview Inn?

"We'll see what happens," she finished her sentence.

What would make her put herself through this?

The question Rhys posed rattled around in my mind. What pushed Kate forward?

"Is that what's in your chapter?" I asked.

"Yeah, essentially..." Kate nodded, staring off at something in the distance, "so after school tomorrow?"

"Okay."

"Great," she said, taking a deep breath as she stood up, "great..."

No further explanation or words, Kate just walked away rubbing her arms like she was cold.

˚˚˚˚˚˚

"This is between us," Kate said as we walked down the street, already a few blocks from the school.

I already got the distinct impression this mission of ours was a secret one, at least until we had some kind of information worth sharing. The more agitated Kate became, the less sure I was that we would learn anything valuable.

She walked quickly, a pace that I half-jogged at occasionally to keep up.

"My lips are sealed," I promised. At least she included me in her secrets. So far, no one else seemed particularly willing to let down the veil of mystery. Whatever Rhys read that brought us to the Greyview Inn was still only his to know. I still wondered what brought Dean to Natalie's house Monday night, before he had a card to take a cue from.

Every once in a while, Kate stopped, looking like there was something she wanted to say, but she stayed quiet. Her hands clenched and unclenched like she wasn't sure what to do with her with them.

"Are you sure you're okay?" I asked.

"No." Kate smiled. "I'm not sure."

It was my turn to almost-speak, but the words didn't come out of my mouth. What was I supposed to say to that?

Instead of awkward conversation, there was only more awkward silence until Kate paused in front of a little modern looking house. It wasn't brand new—most of the contemporary show home houses were in suburban developments far from walking distance to the school. That was something I actually knew about, my dad being in charge of the development's progress. The longer was stayed in Cullfield, the less I understood why his company decided this was the place to begin developing. Cullfield thrived on the old. Why make a point of developing shiny, contemporary neighborhoods?

This house wasn't like that. It was much newer than Natalie's house, but it stood in the neighborhood for a while, probably around the same time the high school or the elementary school was built.

Kate glanced at a slip of paper that she quickly shoved back into her pocket, inhaling sharply.

"This is the place," she said, I swear, getting paler and paler by the second.

"Do you need a second?" I asked, willing to give her anything she needed. The more her shoulders curled in, making her smaller and smaller, the more I worried I should be just as nervous.

"I'm never going to be ready," she said, walking up to the front door. Taking a deep breath of faked confidence, she knocked on the door. The best I could do was stand near her, reminding her that I was still there and she wasn't alone.

Beyond the door, there was a shuffle of footsteps over quiet television noise. More significantly, there was the distinct sound of a chain being unhooked and the deadbolt unlocking.

The swinging door revealed a woman who reminded me immediately of a librarian. If I had to guess, she must have been around my mother's age, but there were more creases at the corners of her eyes and more gray streaking her neat, chestnut hair. Tired defined her. Every bit of her face suggested it.

"Hello, Mrs. Wood," Kate began, "sorry to interrupt your afternoon but Jane and I, we're students at the high school and we're doing a history project for school."

Kate's pretend confidence stood up, and she even added a sweet smile easily pulled off. Who could resist her sweet face?

"So happy you answered the door," I said, throwing in my own well-meaning smile for good measure.

Mrs. Wood, however, didn't smile. Her forehead creased.

"I'm sorry, how do you think I might be able to help you?" she asked.

"Didn't you used to be an archivist? In the Harry Garnett building before it burned down?" Kate said. 

I thought for sure Mrs. Wood would slam the door immediately, judging by how the color drained out of her face.

"There must be someone else you can talk to."

"Like Jonathan Kohler?" Kate pressed.

"About history? Kohler was Cullfield's Finance and Systems Director, not a historian." Mrs. Wood smiled grimly, nothing friendly in her face. "Why are you here." 

It was barely a question, like she already knew the answer. Her tone alone sent goosebumps rising up my arms. Whatever Kate said next was the deciding factor in whether or not this conversation continued.

"Because..." Kate faltered. "A girl is dead and maybe you know why."

Mrs. Wood's eyes narrowed a moment before she inhaled, swinging the door open just wide enough for us to step inside. What we were about to talk about wasn't meant for anyone outside the house. Even the house didn't feel private enough and I didn't even know what Kate needed to ask.

"If you've come this far, you're already asking too many questions." Mrs. Wood turned to the living room, speaking without looking at us which only made her warning all the more chilling.

Books towered around the living room. It would be better described as a library than anything else, floor-to-ceiling shelves built into the walls. I could believe Mrs. Wood worked around archives all day. That wasn't a stretch at all.

She motioned for Kate and I to take a seat on the couch, which why obediently did while Mrs. Wood stayed on her feet, moving continuously.

"Whatever you're looking for, give up now," she said.

The time comes for a lot of people in Cullfield.

Was this what Natalie meant?

"I understand why you would feel that way, but—"

"You understand how?" Mrs. Wood's eyes bore into Kate, trying to hollow her out.

Did we make a mistake in stepping inside? A feeling in the pit of my stomach suggested that we didn't make the wisest choice.

"I understand that Natalie Driscoll is dead and I understand that Jenny—"

"You come to my house..." The seriousness in Mrs. Wood's face cracked into a fleeting crumple of sadness. The transition was so smooth, her features shifting from stern to melancholy to composure seamlessly. "Katie Haumann comes into my house and speaks my daughter's name..." Mrs. Wood repeated, collapsing into a chair. A chill ran up my spine.

Her name hung silently in the air for so long I considered standing up and leaving, pulling Kate behind me. The longer we stayed, sitting while this archivist paced, the more I felt like we would never leave.

Mrs. Wood's eyes ran over Kate's face, seeing something there she hadn't before. Recognition. Maybe she too was reminded of a doll on a shelf.

Next to me, Kate felt stiff and cold as ice. Her hands folded in her lap, she didn't move and her example was as good as any. Neither of us dared to even breathe.

"Tell me, how old are you?"

"Sixteen," Kate said, and I only nodded.

"Jenny would be sixteen this year." A bitter smile turned the corners of the woman's mouth, "I'm sure you could answer some questions of mine, too."

"I—I don't know anything." Kate remained stiff, unwavering. Her doll face still as if it were painted on.

"You don't know where your father is?" Mrs. Wood's smile chilled my blood more and more by the second.

Kate only shook her head, her eyes getting glassy. "No one does." Her voice threatened to crack. 

"Clearly this was a mistake. Sorry to interrupt your afternoon." I stood up, clutching Kate's wrist. If we stayed here any longer, she would shatter. Or Mrs. Wood would shatter and I did not care to stick around to see that.

My heart stopped as Mrs. Wood stood too, steps away from getting between me and the closest exit.

"Nothing good will come of this" she said, but made no move to stop us.

Getting the hell out of there as quickly and politely as I could, Kate followed wordlessly. I didn't give her a lot of choice in the matter.

We were halfway down the block before I realized I was still holding my breath. I turned to Kate, catching the tear rolling a trail through her foundation.

"No one hears about this," she said, her breathing ragged, "can we get the boys? Dean can have the book."

"Yeah, of course," I nod, "what did she mean about your dad?"

"Nothing. Don't worry about it."

That did not stop me from worrying about it. 

˚˚˚˚˚˚

Next door, a handful of men trickled out of the house, boxes in arm. For the first time since Sunday night, activity bustled in the Driscoll's house, but their Honda Accord was nowhere in sight. Instead, there was one unmarked white truck, door open and labeled cardboard boxes stacked inside.

"They're hired to pack up the clutter, as my mother calls it." Kate peered over my shoulder, out the window. Her voice, quiet, stilled just about made my heart stop. "It should look homey but organized."

"Jesus! I didn't hear you come back from the bathroom," I said, hand still against my chest.

"Sorry." she shrugged. "Anyway, they're packing up the dishes out of the cupboard, food out of the pantry, that kind of stuff. Mom says the furniture is staying. A furnished house helps people envision themselves living there, if it's nice enough. And their stuff is all antique, so it looks okay for staging."

"What about Natalie's stuff?" I asked, forcing myself to turn away from the window. Dean and Rhys would show up in any minute and my mother would kill me if I didn't offer snacks to guests in her house.

"Mrs. Driscoll won't let anyone touch it. Specific instructions." Kate trailed behind me, half-looking like she wanted to help, but at the same time, looking exhausted.

The heavy rap against the door almost gave me another heart attack, but I gritted my teeth into a poorly made smile and looked up at Kate.

"Could you get that?" I gave her the excuse not to look so lost in the kitchen.

Around the corner, I heard the door swing open and the shuffle of feet.

"Shoes off, please!" I called, rummaging through the fridge for something I could feed to the uninitiated. Everything was rice and—

Yes. Saved by the turon. It was a miracle they even lasted so long. I pulled the container out of the fridge and began tossing them into the toaster oven.

Kate and Dean padded silently around the corner in socked feet, coming to lean on the island.

I got them drinks, tossed re-crisped turon onto a plate, and put on a hostess face. My mother would've been proud.

"Is Rhys coming?" Dean asked, picking at a pastry. I wanted to smack him and tell him to put it in his mouth or leave it alone.

"He said he would, just running late." Kate glanced at her phone for confirmation, nodding her head absent-mindedly.

"Do we need to wait for him to... go over the book?" Dean leaned forward and for the first time I noticed he didn't have his normal easy-going demeanor. Something was off.

"Well... I guess we can always catch him up when he gets here." I shrugged. The other option appeared to be leaning over my kitchen island in awkward silence until Rhys arrived. I was not prepared to entertain through the stilted quiet.

Plus, I wanted to hear Kate's version of the story, now that she had to show something for her time with the diary.

She glanced at me a moment, sighing heavily.

"I was hoping for better answers, but that's not what I got," Kate began, brushing her hair away from her face as she looked to Dean.

Did he notice how she had rubbed her mascara away in my bathroom? Did he pick up on the slight raw pink tinge in her cheeks from wiping away threatening tears?

"There was a contact... a lead, I guess. She wasn't very helpful, though," Kate said, "but it made me wonder if... what if it wasn't Jonathan Kohler who burned down the Harry Garnett building?"

A long silence stretched between us.

"Who else would do it?" Dean asked.

Kate shrugged. "I don't know. I'm just starting to think that maybe the people we've always thought were guilty... there could be more to it."

"Okay, but what would make you say that?" Dean pressed, "what did the contact say?"

The truth was, she didn't say much of anything. Wherever Kate got her theory, it wasn't from the mouth of Mrs. Wood. Which begged the question, where did it come from?

"I don't know, Dean. Natalie is vague and confusing and I don't know what I'm supposed to make of her notes. There's nothing concrete. You try to make better sense of it."

I reached out for the turon, a way to keep myself busy so my face didn't give anything away. Sharing our little excursion didn't seem like an especially good way to go. Thinly veiled threats and warnings hadn't done anything to comfort me and I doubt it would do much for Dean or Rhys. 

It was Kate that Mrs. Wood recognized.

Now if something bad happened, we couldn't say no one warned us. Mrs. Wood made that clear.

"I guess I have no other choice in the matter, do I?" Dean replied.

Pink flushed across Kate's face and she dove into her purse, digging past her wallet, her make up bag to find the diary. She tossed it at Dean.

"Take it. See how much you get out of it."

Rapping on the front door was immediately followed by the creak of hinges.

"Shoes off!"

Rhys already half-stumbled around the corner before he stopped to kick off his sneakers into the pile that he probably almost tripped over coming in.

"We were just talking about how Kate got a dead end, too." I caught him up in a single sentence, saving Kate from refreshing her fake details. The less we talked about her chapter, the better.

Even as I said it, my stomach churned, unconvinced. However, it seemed more advantageous to stay on Kate's good side for the time being. 

"That's a shame." Food was more of a priority to Rhys. Five seconds of being in my house and he was already shoving a whole lumpia into his mouth. "What is this? It's good."

"Banana and jackfruit rolled in a spring roll wrapper. Filipino thing. Anyway, we should probably figure out what we do know now instead of focusing on the dead ends," I said. 

"The Greyview was plenty educational. We know that there are other secret booze-stashing, human-hiding rooms. We know that they're probably private property, since nobody wanted to bring up exact locations," Rhys said, picking out more food off the plate, "we know that the Greyview's tunnel led somewhere, and that somewhere can't be that far from it and is definitely north of it."

Oh. He was right. Rhys paid more attention to what wasn't obvious. If he sat next to Kate in Mrs. Wood's house, he would've realized so many more things than I did. He would ask more questions about Jenny, what that name meant and why it made Mrs. Wood snap. He would know that Kate's father was a part of this, and maybe he would even know how. He could put together that Kate's father and the question what's Kate in this for could be related.

All I had were questions. He had interpretations.

I could make interpretations too, but none that I dared to bring up around my kitchen island.

"Dean has the diary now... maybe after it's gone around the circle once, it'll make more sense. We just... don't have all the pieces yet," I suggested, hoping but having doubts.

No old questions were answered. All we did was ask new ones.

"Fair point." Rhys nodded.

"What took you so long to get here, by the way? You live, what? Ten minutes from here?" Dean asked.

"I do have other things to do. The rest of the universe didn't stop because Natalie left a book full of crazy for us to flip through," Rhys replied.

It sounded a lot like avoiding the answer, but if Dean didn't push the question, I didn't plan to.

"I know you just got here, but my parents are going to be home soon..." I looked over them, wondering if my go-to excuse of history homework would stick. None of us had textbooks or notebooks or pencils. This looked too close to a party on a school night.

If I could, I would keep them around as long as possible, but I ushered everyone out the door instead.

Kate, last to go, gave me a weak smile.

"How long will you lie to them?" I whispered. 

"Until I know more." Cryptic. And then she left. 

And my house was quiet again. The only thing to look forward to now was a long night of staring awake at my bedroom ceiling, waiting for a faucet to leak.