"Where are you going?"

"So maybe the MP4 isn't evidence. Maybe it's the door."

She paused at the door, looking back at the dark screen of her laptop.

"So?"

Bethany sat in a wooden chair, back straight, hands folded on her lap. The room behind her was bare—pale yellow wallpaper, a single window with rain streaking down. She wore a gray sweater, her dark hair pulled into a loose ponytail. On the table beside her: a glass of water, untouched.

Felix knocked and pushed the door open. "Still watching her?"

Felix was quiet. Then: "You're scaring me, Mara."