The air around them felt colder than usual. The Christmas break had just ended, and the girls had returned to Maplewood with a lingering heaviness. The news of Laven's death was still too fresh. They sat huddled in Lemon's dorm room—Scarlett, Evelyn, Autumn, Riley, Hazel, and Lemon—everyone silent for a long moment before the conversation finally began.
"It happened yesterday," Scarlett said, her voice unusually quiet.
"Exactly," Lemon nodded. "Whoever did this… they used the university break as an opportunity. Because it's not allowed to leave Maplewood unless it's a special occasion. So the killer must've gone home too... just like all of us."
"That means… they're one of us," Riley said, eyes widening. "Someone from Maplewood."
"But Laven wasn't even here. She was at her own home. That means the killer had to have tracked her down," Hazel added, brows furrowing.
"And still made it back here before the break ended," Evelyn whispered. "That's terrifying."
No one had the courage to speak after that for a while. The room sat in silence again, the weight of that realization pressing down on all of them.
A notification buzzed on Lemon's phone, breaking the tension. She glanced at it. It was a text from Leon.
Leon: "You need to see this."
Attached was a photo. Lemon's breath hitched in her throat as she opened it—and gasped.
It was a blurry, leaked image from the news, showing Laven's lifeless body. She looked cold and pale, her hair sprawled across a wooden floor, and blood pooled under her head.
Lemon's hand trembled. She quickly passed the phone to Scarlett.
Everyone crowded around.
They stared at it for ten whole minutes.
Not one word was spoken.
The image was unsettling, haunting. But to them, it was more than just shock—they saw clues, hidden details, things the police might overlook. They had spent the last few weeks entangled in a web of secrets, lies, and mystery. And now... this was personal.
Lemon finally spoke. "Print it out."
Autumn nodded and left to get it printed. Minutes later, she returned with the printed photograph. Lemon walked over to the board she had made. It was already filled with names, strings, and photos—like a detective's wall.
She pinned the image right in the center.
"We connect the points now," Lemon said, voice steadier than before.
They began analyzing. Looking at the angle of the blood, the floor material, the background, her clothes—anything that could help. Evelyn noticed a bracelet near her hand. Riley pointed out a shoe in the background. Scarlett kept staring at the time on a broken wall clock in the photo—it showed 6:47.
"Is that when it happened?" she wondered aloud.
"Could be," Hazel replied, scribbling it down.
"We'll look at the timeline again," Lemon said. "We were all home. Everyone in Maplewood was. So was the killer. Which means..."
"He or she had no one watching them. No rules. No curfew. No one to stop them," Scarlett finished.
"Someone got out of Maplewood," Evelyn muttered. "Someone like us."
"But no one knows who," Hazel whispered. "No one saw anything."
"And we still don't know everyone who was here in first year," Riley added. "What if someone else—someone we don't remember—is hiding something?"
They all looked at each other.
There were too many questions. Too many missing pieces.
But one thing was clear.
Laven was murdered. And the killer had planned it carefully.
And they were still somewhere around them.
Inside Maplewood.
Watching.
Waiting.
And worse?
The girls still didn't know about her. The girl whose name they hadn't heard yet.
She was still a ghost in the shadows of their investigation.