Page 107 of Death and Do-Overs

“Did you find any footage of Nie yet?”

“Not yet, but I’ll keep looking.” She turned her attention away from me and back to our task.

I focused on taking one breath at a time, taking one moment at a time, and tried to focus, too.

Hours passed before we caught the first glimpse of Nie. Afternoon turned to early evening.

We found Nie going in and out of the general store. We found her at the hotel. Finally, I saw her talking to a man in an alley I recognized.

This was where Nie had died.

I grabbed Imogen’s wrist. “This is it.”

We watched on bated breath as Nie spoke to a man with pale hair. He looked distraught.

Nie turned.

The man said something.

“I’m so sorry,” Imogen said. “That’s what he said. He’s apologizing.”

When Nie’s back was to him, he swung the knife right through Nie’s neck.

She collapsed to the ground. I could feel the rightness in all of these actions, all which were so wrong it hurt. I could feel that this was what had happened, even though I hadn’t been able to revive these memories.

I fought the instinct to close my eyes.

I made myself watch as the man ran away, leaving her there.

Imogen reached to turn it off.

I stopped her, knowing that there was something more.

Moments stretched in agonizing stillness and silence, until finally a small creature trotted into the frame—a fox wearing a tiara.

“Noodles!” Imogen said. “It was Noodles the whole time.”

I should have felt relief or joy at finding the information I’d been so desperately searching for, but my nerves felt raw. My brain felt numb.

We locked up and headed back toward the Mournmore as night fell.

I needed a shower in real water that wasn’t orange, and a real bed to curl up in that didn’t feel like it was filled with rocks.

Mar was in our room when we returned, without Levi.

“Where’s Levi?” Imogen asked.

“He’s picking up dinner for everyone,” Mar said.

A touch of pink crept over her cheeks.

She’d done more than kiss him. She felt more than I did for him, because of the alone time they’d spent together.

None of that mattered. We had our answers. We had our killer. I had to tell her everything.

“We found these in a room behind the door with the carvings,” Mar said, spreading out photographs on the floor. “The scarabs acted as a key. We got stuck for a while, but eventually we found a hidden button on the wall that let us out.”

I spotted a number of familiar faces—the alchemist’s, the gorilla man, and my own.

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