Mezzanine

| 20 |

"The library?" I raised an eyebrow as Carter pulled the heavy wood door open.

"After you," he said, gesturing for me to go in.

It was cold out, so I didn't hesitate. I stepped through the door, the tension in my shoulders releasing as the warmth and musty damp scent filled my lungs. The drone of the wind outside muffled as Carter shut the door behind us, leaving the entire space in a hushed silence.

"I don't get it," I said as we headed towards the stairs that lead to the main section of the library. "My dad was just some dude. It's not like anyone would have written a book about what happened to him or anything."

"We're not looking for a book." Carter led the way up the stairs. "Last time we were here, Christine said they had collections of local newspapers going all the way back to the nineteen hundreds, remember?" He paused, waiting for me at the top. "For a town where not much happens, even someone getting hit by a car in the middle of the night would make the news."

"Okay." I crossed my arms. "That's actually a pretty good idea."

"Right?" He grinned. "I have them from time to time."

"Yeah, well don't let it go to your head," I said. "You're annoying enough as it is."

"Whatever." Carter shoved me in the shoulder lightly as we made our way to the front desk.

Christine sat behind it, her attention so invested in the fantasy novel she was reading that she didn't even hear us come in. When we reached the desk, Carter cleared his throat. She jumped about an inch in her seat, slamming the book shut in front of her.

"Sorry, I didn't hear you..." her voice trailed off when she looked up and saw the two of us. Of course. It's them again.

"Hi Christine," Carter said with a smile.

"I thought we had a deal." She blew a strand of dark brown hair out of her eyes and scowled at us. "I told you everything I know, and you promised not to bother me about it again."

"We aren't here to bother you," I said. "We're just here to do...library things."

She raised an eyebrow at me. Library things? Like reading books? Why didn't he just say that?

"What my friend here means to say is, we are doing research," Carter continued. "Last time we were here, you said the library had a collection of old local newspapers."

She looked between the two of us skeptically. "Right."

"Well?" I prodded. "Where are they?"

"They're all the way in the back," she said. "Behind the biography section. I have them in binders labeled by year and month."

"Perfect, thanks!" Carter turned on his heels, heading toward the aisles of books.

"Wait!" she called after him.

He halted, glancing over her shoulder like a kid caught raiding the cookie jar.

"Just...be careful with them." She tucked a strand of dark brown hair that had escaped her braid back behind her ear. "We only have one copy of everything before 2010, and I haven't gotten around to digitizing them yet." Teenagers are always destroying things. "Those binders do not leave the library, and...no doodling in the margins or tearing out pages!"

"Of course," Carter said. "We just wanna read them."

I held eye contact with Christine for another few seconds. Her thoughts muddled as she looked at me—a mixture of emotions. Suspicion, distrust, but also...curiosity?