Hunter's Legacy

“I’m driving,” I stated the obvious, as we left Piper’s office.

“You can barely stand on your own,” Natasha replied.

“But it’s my car,” I said, leaning against the wall, when we reached the end of the corridor. I leaned my head back against the wall, closing my eyes and trying to catch my breath.

“And you have just started recovering from your injuries,” she said.

“Well, we can’t all be vamps who can get ambushed one minute and be fine two hours later,” I snapped. Natasha crossed her arms over her chest and pursed her lips.

It was a low blow, and I knew it was; Natasha hadn’t asked to become a vampire--which had forced her into the Hunter life--just like I hadn’t asked to be thrown into it as unceremoniously as I was, too.

There wasn’t an excuse. There was no excuse for why I said it.

“Look, I apologize,” I said, opening my eyes and looking at her, so that she knew I was serious, and not just spewing bullshit, “That was a cheap shot, I shouldn’t have said it. Are we good?”

Natasha looked at me and didn’t utter a word, as she stuck out her hand.

“Fine,” it was the only word she said, as she pulled me up. I groaned as my torso straightened out, and I took a deep breath, “I guess that I shouldn’t expect a heart-felt apology from you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, feeling slightly offended.

“You have trust issues, anybody can see that. You’ve closed yourself off to everybody, because you don’t want a repeat of what happened with the last person or people whom you trusted,” Natasha answered.

I was floored. She had hit the nail on the head when it came to my personal issues, and she diagnosed them like she was a freaking therapist. “Maybe we should get dinner?” Natasha suggested, changing the subject rather smoothly.

“I think I’m just going to go to bed,” I replied, pointing in the direction of my room.

“Alright, do you need help?” she asked, a note of concern in her voice.

“Nope, I’m good,” I said, turning towards the hallway, and waving behind me.

Without Natasha’s help, it took me a good minute to hobble down the stairs, and I knew that if I took a breather on the step, I probably wouldn’t get up. Though, I was completely out of breath by the time I reached my door way.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. I noticed Alexander was standing beside the desk that sat to the right of my bed. I hobbled to the bed, and eased down to sit on the edge, letting out a breath when my backside hit the mattress.

“I thought that you would want something to eat,” Alexander said, and that’s when I smelled it; cheese burger and fries. “You still have your food from the diner, too,” he slid the tray to the edge of the desk, near enough for me to reach my arm out and grab something, if I so wanted.

“Thanks, but I think I’ll take this, instead,” I said, reaching for a fry, and popping it into my mouth, “At least I know the chef, more than likely, didn’t poison this.” We lapsed into silence, him standing with his arms crossed, and me munching on a handful of fries.

“I guess I owe you a thank you,” I said, my mouth full of fries.

“What was that?” Alexander asked, a cocky grin pulling at his lips, “I didn’t quite hear what you said.”

“I said, thank you,” I repeated, without the food in my mouth, “If it weren’t for you, Natasha and I might have been done for, so...we owe you one.”

“No, you don’t,” Alexander responded, the grin gone from his face, and an easy smile replacing it, “That’s just what partners do. I’ll let you eat and rest.” He left, then.

Alexander had a point; partners were there for each other, no matter what. He could save my life multiple times, and I didn’t owe him a thing. Natasha had made a fair point earlier, too; I had trust issues, big ones. In the whole of the two years that I’ve lived in the bunker, the only people I had worked with, were Piper, Eddie, and Audrey Malone—who had helped me escape Rosling psychiatric facility. Audrey tended to work on her own as well, and she traveled quite frequently, so she was barely ever in the office anymore.

Though, before Natasha and Alexander, I worked on my own because of my trust issues, I hadn’t wanted any connection to anyone for fear of being hurt again.

I’m now seeing that these two won’t hurt me; they won’t betray me and lock me up. It was going to take a while for me to let my guard down—if I ever did—but I knew that they had my back.

“Have you packed, yet?” Natasha asked, setting her duffel bag on the table that I sat at, in the Archives. I had commandeered a whole table to myself; books and journals were surrounding me, stacked and nearly teetering above me.

My hand shot out to steady the stack of tomes that sat to my right, as the force of her bag being set down, jostled the table, nearly sending the stack down.

“Watch it!” I snapped, “What would I have packed for?” Natasha’s eyes went wide and her jaw dropped. “What?”

“Usually, when we’re given a case, you’re packed and starting up the car, before Piper can finish handing out the information...who are you, and what have you done with Camille Andrews?”

It was true; I haven’t been all here, recently. It’s only been a few days, though it feels like a lifetime. Natasha was right; normally, I would be revving the engine of my car, before Piper could give me all the information about which case we have, but I’ve holed myself up in the Archives, with every bit of demon lore and Hunter’s journal we have, and I still haven’t come across the name Mazereck.

“I’ve just been stuck, trying to find out who this Demon is,” I sighed again, looking down at the page I’d been studying in one of the Demonolgy books.

“Well, a trip will do you good, and then you can come back and get back to it with a new outlook,” Natasha said, sliding into the chair next to me.

“You’re right,” I said, after thinking it over for a minute, “I’ll go get packed and be out to the car in a few minutes.” Natasha nodded and left. I took a minute to put the books back on the shelves before I, too, left the Archives.

“Camille, I’m glad I caught you,” Piper said, as she passed me on my way to my room, “I’m surprised that you haven’t left yet.”

“I’m full of surprises. Anyway, what’s up?” I asked, leaning against the wall behind me. My ribs were still in the process of healing, but I wasn’t hobbling around anymore; against his better judgement, Doc had given me clearance to go ahead on this assignment—provided that I wouldn’t get into any altercations.

But me not getting into some kind of altercation, is like putting a chocolate cake in front of a six-year-old and telling them not to eat it.

“You need to take Alexander with you,” she said.

“Why?” I asked, feeling confused, “I thought he wasn’t coming because this was about him?”

“Yes, that’s right, but Eddie, myself, and a few other Hunters are going to check security,” Piper said.

“Check security?” I asked, raising an eyebrow, “I thought that this place was warded with all kinds of nifty spells.”

“It is, but one of the Hunters thought that she saw something, so we’re just checking and making sure everything’s kosher,” Piper replied.

“I still don’t understand why he can’t stay here,” I said.

“Camille, he’s your charge, you need to just take him with you,” Piper snapped.

“Okay, okay, chill out,” I said, putting my hands up, in defense, “He’s coming with us.”

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, letting out a sigh, “I hate dealing with the Witches.”

“What about Edie? Can she come up and help with the warding?” I asked, pushing up off of the wall and continuing to my room, with Piper following me.

“Edie wasn’t the one who did the original warding. For a place as big as this, its multiple spells and a lot of time,” Piper sighed, as we entered my room; she sat at my desk chair, as I pulled out my duffel bag and started getting my things together.

“So, are we talking about a Coven, here?” I inquired, throwing a sheathed knife in with my clothes.

“Pretty much,” she replied, sounding tired, “Nothing we haven’t done before, though.”

“Good, as long as you have it under control,” I responded, putting my laptop in my bag and zipping it up. I heaved the bag over my shoulder, and walked to the door.

“See you when we get back,” I said.

Piper had taught me to never say “Good bye,” because it was very final. So, in lieu of good bye, we always said something such as “See you later,” or something of the like.

“Yeah, see you then,” Piper responded, “I think Alexander may be in the Common area.”

“Thanks,” I said, before I walked back down the hall.

The Common area was what it sounded like; it was essentially a Rec Room with a couple of vintage video games, a table for board games or cards, a TV where we kept up-to-date on interesting cases, and overstuffed furniture to bury ourselves in, between cases.

Sure enough, Alexander was laid on an old chaise lounge, a book open and laid, face down on his chest, as he snored.

The chaise was old and rickety; the legs were uneven and the cushion had small rips and tears in it. Someone ended up shoving it off into a corner, at one point in time, and no one had pulled it back out, favoring the other overstuffed furniture in the joint.

But Alexander had, and I didn’t know why.

“Alexander, hey,” I said, softly, shaking his shoulder.

No dice.

“Wake up!” I shook him roughly; he just let out another snore, smacked his lips together, and turned his head away from me.

Frustration tore through me as I lifted my foot and kicked the chaise—hard. It tumbled over, a squeak leaving Alexander’s lips, as his body hit the floor.

“Good morning, Mr. Sutton,” I said, mimicking a highly-energized radio jockey, “It’s time to get your ass up and get packed because we’re leaving.”

“Where are we going?” he groaned, swiping his fingers across his eyes and then squinting them open.

“Just get your stuff and let’s go,” I said, beckoning to him. Grumbling, Alexander gets up, rights the chaise, and then follows me.

“Where are we going?” he asked, again

“On a hunt,” I said, giving him the vaguest answer that I could. What was I supposed to say? I haven’t gotten permission to let him in on this, yet.

“You’re cleared, already?” Alexander asked, sounding surprised.

“In a manner of speaking, yes,” I responded.

“But, just two days ago, you were barely walking on your own,” Alexander responded. I looked back at him, and I could see the confused expression on his face, as he was trying to piece some puzzle together.

“Yeah, and now I’m fine,” I quipped, turning and walking backwards, “So, go get your stuff, and meet us out at the car.”

“Okay...” Alexander trailed off, and turned towards the wing with the rooms; I turned and started walking towards the exit.

“Hey, Camille,” Serena’s chipper tone reached me, and I stopped, pivoting on my heel and facing her, as she came to a stop in front of me, “Wow, you’re fast, even when you’re injured.”

“Thanks, I think,” I replied, “Is there something that you needed?” I was hoping that there wasn’t, because all I wanted to do, now that I was up, packed and ready to go, I didn’t want to stay in The Bunker too much longer.

“Just to say…Goodbye,” she said, in an ominous tone.

“Okay…see you later,” I responded.

“Ready?” Alexander asked, coming to my side. Serena took that as her cue to turn on her heel and leave.

“Yeah,” I responded, slowly, as I watched the dark-haired girl walk down the hall, an unsettling feeling in my stomach, “Yeah, let’s get out of here.” We turned and walked out of The Bunker.

“About time,” Natasha looked up from where she leaned against the back left side of my car; the trunk popped open, the whole of our traveling arsenal on display. Natasha quirked a brow, as Alexander and I approached.

“I thought that he wasn’t coming,” she said, nodding to him.

“Piper said that he had to tag along,” I responded, setting my duffel inside the trunk, along with Alexander’s. Natasha sheathed the knife she was holding and she tossed it back into her own duffel, before reaching down and zipping it closed. With that, I closed the trunk, locked it, and pulled the key out of the lock, before walking around to the driver’s side.

“Are you okay?” Natasha asked. I could hear the concern in her voice.

“Yeah…hey, uh, what kind of vibe do you get off of that Serena girl?” I asked, as I started the car.

“She’s nice,” she answered, simply.

“I think she’s great,” Alexander said, from his seat in the back. I chanced a glance at him in the rearview mirror.

“I don’t know…” I muttered and trailed off, as I put the car in gear, and pulled away.

With only drive-thru food, and some snacks from En-route convenience stores to sustain us, we made it to Ohio in two days.

We pulled into The Stardust Inn, and I stopped outside the front office, while Natasha went and checked us in. It was only a minute, and then she came back and slid back into the passenger side.

“Room 208,” Natasha said, holding the keys between her thumb and forefinger, and shaking them, as though for emphasis.

“They didn’t have any rooms on the first floor?” I asked, as I pulled around to the other side of the building. Usually, we were able to get rooms on the ground floor--perfect for a quick get-away when we needed one, but not this time, I guess.

“Nothing was available,” Natasha shrugged as I found a spot near the stairs. I sighed; I didn’t like it, but at least, if I leaned forward, I could see the door from my seat. I pulled the keys out of the ignition, stowed them in my pocket, and got out of the car. I walked around the back, and unlocked the trunk.

Looking both ways, just to make sure we weren’t being watched, I, then, proceeded to put my gun in my belt, and a knife in my boot, before I zipped up my duffel and pulled all three bags out of the trunk. I let out a breath as I set them on the ground; it took a toll on my midsection, and my ribs definitely let me know, as a twinge of pain surged through the area. I pressed my hand to my ribs, waited for the pain to subside, and then reached up to close the trunk.

Bending down, I grabbed my duffel and then told myself that I’d make a second trip down here for the other ones.

“I’m going to have to go back down there,” I said, as I hefted my duffel onto the bed nearest to the door.

“Why?” Natasha asked.

“It caused me too much pain to bring all three up; the other two are sitting down by the car,” I replied, taking out my pantsuit and hanging it in the closet.

“Go get the bags, Alexander,” Natasha said, and I could hear the sharp edge in her tone. I didn’t hear Alexander reply, all I heard were the footsteps across the floor, before they left.

“What was that?” I asked.

“What?” Natasha replied.

“You snapped at Alexander,” I said, “You are never the one to snap at him; I always snap at him, and you end up telling me to be nice.”

“It’s nothing,” Natasha denied, shaking her head. I was about to inquire again, when Alexander walked back through the door, a duffel bag in each hand.

I moved over to the window and drew the midnight blue curtains closed. Natasha unzipped the extra duffel all the way, revealing every weapon we carried.

“What case is here?” Alexander asked.

“Honestly, we don’t know,” I shrugged, as Natasha walked over to her personal duffel bag, rifled through it a moment, and then drew out her pantsuit. A minute later, she walked to the bathroom, and the door shut, “Piper just got a call about some sketchy stuff going on around here, and she wanted us to come and check it out.”

The bathroom door opened, and Natasha walked out, securing her blond locks into a ponytail at the back of her head, and then buttoning the cuffs of her white blouse.

I took that as my cue to do the same; I grabbed my own suit from the closet and walked to the bathroom, and closed the door, behind me.

I moved over to the shower and turned it on; the pipes rattled as the water worked its way through them, before the showerhead finally spit it out.

I sat down on the lid of the toilet, and started getting undressed; I eased my jacket down my arms, hung it on the doorknob, and then I removed my shirt. I let out a hiss of pain, as I found the edge of the ace bandage that was wrapped around my midsection. It had only been a few days, but I wasn’t naive enough to think that it wouldn’t take weeks--if not months--for my ribs to heal efficiently.

After getting fully undressed, I stepped into the shower. It only took me a few minutes to bathe, before I got out, and started to dress again. Since we weren’t dealing with anything hand-to-hand today, I decided to forego the use of the bandage around my ribs.

I stepped out, and walked to my bag, grabbing my hairbrush and brushing through my dark locks, really quick, before braiding them together.

“So, where are we going, first?” Alexander asked, sounding excited.

“We are not going anywhere,” I said, as I tucked the bottom of the blouse into the top of the pants, “Natasha and I are going to go knock on doors, and you are going to do some research about the town.”

“Great,” Alexander pouted and slumped into one of the two chairs that surrounded the small, circular, table, “Why can’t I go with you guys though?”

“Because if three investigators show up asking questions about some mysterious goings-on, it may cause people to panic and, if there is a case here, its blown,” Natasha answered.

“What she said,” I responded, “Anyway, call us if you find anything, and visa versa.”

“Yep,” Alexander clipped. I sighed and walked out the door, with Natasha following me.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” I asked Natasha, as we pulled up in front of a gray, official-looking building.

“That’s what it says in the file,” Natasha replied, opening the manila folder that sat in her lap, “It was a closed adoption, but it was done here.”

“And Alexander’s adoptive parents? They lived here, in town?” I asked.

“That’s my assumption,” Natasha said, closing the file and putting it on the seat between us. I opened the glove compartment and pulled out a fake badge.

“Alright, let’s go,” I said, and we got out of the car, heading up to the building.

I opened the thick, metal-framed glass-pane door, and was met with white walls with black trim, several desks were pushed together; the only thing separating the desks from the rest of the area was a long white, polished, counter.

“Excuse me,” I said, walking up to the counter. A heavy-set woman with red corkscrew curls that were tied into a knot at the back of her head, got up from her desk to assist us. She had a badge pinned to her sweater, stating that her name was Judy.

“Yes, May I help you?”

“FBI, I’m Agent Doherty, this is Agent Redmond,” I said, flashing my badge, and indicating Natasha, who followed my lead, “We recently came across a case that concerned this agency. May we see all the adoption records for the year, 1990?”

“Do you have a warrant?” she asked. I bit my tongue, but I didn’t comment, as I pulled a business card out of my suit pocket and handed it to her.

“If you would like to call our supervisor and clear it with her, that’s fine,” I said, handing the card over. Judy took the card, with pursed lips, and walked back over to her desk; I watched as she dialed the number, and then picked up the receiver.

The protocol for this type of thing was always standard: if we were asked about official forms or warrants, we gave a card to the person we were talking to, who would then call Piper, who would play the part of Supervisor and get us cleared.

A minute later, Judy came back, a friendly smile on her face.

“I’m sorry about that, you can never be too careful,” she said, and then she held open a small, swinging divider and beckoned us to the other side, “Most of our files are on the computers, but we still have hard copies of all the files before 2000.” We followed her down the gray hallway, and she opened another wooden door.

Filing boxes were stacked around the room. From floor to mid-wall, the boxes were stacked against the office-turned-storage room.

“Please call us if you need anything,” she said, pleasantly. And then she left.

Natasha and I shared a look; this might take longer than we thought.

We quickly came to the conclusion that none of these files were organized; Some of the boxes were labeled with years or case numbers, and others were just blank.

“Hey, I found a box with a few files from 1990,” Natasha said, beckoning me over. I set down a file that I had just picked up, and walked over to where she stood. I looked down and saw a stack of manila folders; some were thin, and others were so thick that they had corners of other papers sticking out of them.

“Do we even know what we’re looking for?” Natasha asked.

“Anything with October 16, 1990,” I said, remembering that it was Alexander’s birthdate from the file.

“That’s helpful,” Natasha responded, as we rifled through the folders. Finally, we each took a stack of folders that had October, 1990 on the tab.

“We’re looking for a needle in a haystack,” I said, twenty minutes later, slumping back in the metal chair, “We don’t even know the birth mother’s name.”

“Wait a second, this might be something,” Natasha said. I leaned forward, as she slid the file over for me to look at, “This says that a newborn baby boy was found on the steps of the local fire station, on October 16, 1990.”

“Local fire station? Here?” I asked.

“Seems like it,” Natasha replied.

“Hold on a minute,” I said, and I picked up the file. Holding it in my hand, I walked out of the room, and into the office space.

“Excuse me, Judy,” I said, sliding into the metal chair that sat facing her desk, “Do you remember anything about this incident?” I handed over the file, and watched as she took it. I watched her eyes move, rapidly, over sentence after sentence, before she nodded.

“Yes, I remember this, quite well; it tugged at my heart strings, alright,” she said.

“Was the baby brought in?” I asked.

“By the Captain of the Fire Station,” Judy replied, “Of course, he wasn’t Captain, then.”

“Does he still work at the fire station?” Natasha asked. Like me, she was holding herself back from speaking quickly; we were excited to finally have a lead to explore.

“Yes, actually, he does,” Judy said. She grabbed a sticky note and scribbled something on it, before handing it over to me. I looked at it.

521 Maple Street

“It’s the address of the firehouse,” Judy said, “I hope it helps.”

“Thank you, so much,” I said, standing up.

I beckoned to Natasha and we walked out of the building, and back to my car; we were about to get our answers.

Turns out, the local firehouse was a mere five-minute drive from the adoption agency. The dark red brick building was two stories; on the left was a pair of glass-plated, metal-framed, double doors. On the right was an open garage, with a fire engine peeking out of it.

“Can I help you?” a voice asked. I started to reach for my knife, but Natasha put a hand on my arm, as a young man, maybe a couple of years older than me, came out from behind the truck.

“Yes, Agents Doherty and Redmond, FBI, we were hoping that we could speak to Captain Henly,” I said, moving my hand away from my knife and flashing my badge.

“About what?” he asked, looking at us with a raised eyebrow.

“His name came up in an investigation, and we’d like to speak with him,” Natasha replied, smoothly.

“Yeah, sure, come on up,” he said, nodding for us to follow him. We complied, and were led into the building, stopping at a dark-colored wooden door, with two name plates; one said Steven Henley and under it was another plate that read Captain.

The door was cracked, slightly, giving us the view of an older gentleman sitting at a large desk, going over paperwork. The young man tapped, softly, on the door, with his knuckles.

“Captain, there are some FBI agents to see you,” he said.

“FBI?” Chief Henley barked, in a gruff voice.

“Yes Sir,” the Young Man responded. Over his shoulder, I could see him nod, and the Young Man stepped aside. Natasha and I entered, and the door shut behind us.

“Agents Doherty and Redmond, FBI,” I said. We shook hands.

“How can I help you?” Captain Henley asked, gesturing towards the two wooden chairs that sat in front of us. We nodded in thanks, and took our seats.

“Your name came up in an investigation we were conducting,” Natasha said.

“You brought a baby to Social Services, about twenty years ago, October 16, 1990,” I continued.

“Yes, I did.” Captain Henley nodded, in confirmation.

“Do you remember anything about the mother?” I asked.

“It was Margot Sigman,” Captain Henley said, without hesitation. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Natasha jot down the name in her small notepad.

“How can you be certain?” I asked. I had to know that this was going somewhere, and this guy wasn’t just sending us on a wild goose chase.

“Because I saw her, the night that she left the baby here,” Captain Henley said, “I was on my way out, and I saw her leave him in a basket, wrapped in a blanket.”

“Did she see you?” Natasha asked, with a raised eyebrow.

“No, by the time I had opened the door, she was already halfway down the block,” Henley said.

“But you never saw her face?” Natasha questioned.

“I didn’t have to,” Henley stated, adamantly, “My daughter was friends with Margot. Best friends. They had those matching best friend-half-of-a-whole-heart necklace…Margot’s necklace had an ‘M’ on the bottom of her half of the heart, and it was laying over the baby’s blanket.”

Natasha and I exchanged a look; a necklace? A keepsake? Would Alexander even still have it or would it have been long forgotten about?

“Thank you, Captain Henley, you’ve been a big help,” I said, getting up and holding my hand out; Captain Henley stood as well, shaking my hand and Natasha’s.

“I was happy to help; anything to help out Margot, she was such a lovely girl,” Captain Henley said.

“I’m sorry, did you say ‘was’?” I asked.

“Yes. After that night, she seemed to vanish,” Henley said. Natasha and I exchanged another look--so close, yet so far.

“Thank you again,” I said, handing him a card, “Call us if you can remember anything else.”

We walked out of the building, and were silent, until we got to the car.

“Now what do we do?” Natasha asked, squinting out of the windshield. It had started to rain, the clouds above us darkening, just slightly.

I pulled out my cell phone and scrolled down to Piper’s number; I knew that she was dealing with the Witches, and that I was liable to get my head bit off, but I pressed the little green telephone icon next to her name, and held the phone to my ear.

“Hey, Piper, how are things?” I asked, when the call went through, after two rings.

“What do you need?” Piper said, her tone short.

“We kind of hit a dead end,” I said, and then I explained about Captain Henley, and Margot Sigman, “Can you go and see if Alexander has something like that in his room or something?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Piper said, but she hung up before I could thank her. I shut my phone and put it in my pocket.

“They might have computers at the local library that we can use; we might get lucky and we might be able to find her online, somewhere,” Natasha said, shrugging. I have to admit, it was a good idea.

“Do you even know where the library is?” I asked.

“Two blocks up,” Natasha replied, nodding out the windshield, “We passed it on the way down here.” I put the car in gear, and we drove up to the library.

We pulled up in front of the building, and got out of the car. Not many people were inside, most of the patrons were in a different section, they were parents and children, in for story time.

“Can I help you?” the woman behind the front desk said. She was older, maybe in her early sixties, with steel gray hair that was pulled back in a twist at the back of her head. A pair of dark-rimmed glasses sat on the bridge of her nose, and she sported a light-colored sweater draped around the shoulders of the blue dress that she was wearing.

“We were wondering if we could use your computers,” Natasha said, being as polite as she possibly could be.

“You certainly can, just sign in, please,” she handed over a clipboard with a sign-up sheet on it. I put down my name--my alias--and the current time. I smiled as I handed it over.

“Thank you, Miss Doherty, the computers are off to the left, right over there,” she said, pointing towards an area that was scattered with tables. Along the left wall, I saw a table, with three computers, sitting side by side. Luckily for us, no one else seemed to be using them.

We walked back to them, and I pulled out a chair and slid into it, booting up the computer as I went. Natasha sat in the chair beside me; computers were still new to her and she wasn’t a fan of how quickly technology evolved. It was a stretch to get her to use a cell phone, but a computer? Let alone a computer with internet access? That was a big “hell no.”

I pulled up the web browser, and typed in Margot’s name. The first listing that came up, came with a picture.

The woman had the same sandy brown hair and green eyes that Alexander had, and her smiling was almost blindingly white.

“It says here that she’s married, and goes by Margot Porter, now. She has two kids--a boy and a girl--and she lives in Tennessee,” I said, feeling a bit put-out.

“You’re kidding me,” Natasha sighed, “What are we supposed to do now?”

As if on cue, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out, and looked at Piper’s text message.

It was a picture of a dark grey necklace, on a matching dark grey chain, the pendant being half of a heart with an M near the bottom.

“I guess we’re going to Tennessee.”