amateur detective ━━ stiles stilinski¹

viii; trust issues

tw: talk of suicide
(not in heavy detail)

"IT TOOK THE DOLL AGAIN?" Stiles asked, speaking into the other end of the line, where his father was in the Tate house, on call with his son. Juliette shot him a confused expression, maybe even as confused as Stiles was. "What the hell is so special about this doll?" Stiles sighed, rubbing the back of his head.

Juliette saw Stiles' expression shift from panic to sudden realisation, and he let go of his phone. "It's the doll..." He looked out at Juliette, sounding confident. "Its the... doll?" Stiles said again, sounding baffled this time. "Why would it go all the way to the school just for a doll? Then again into Tate's house? One found in a car wreck, by the way."

"Maybe..." Juliette tried to think. "What if the doll is some kind of anchor?"

Stiles moved closer to Juliette, interested in her theory. "I'm listening."

"Alright, what if the doll is Malia's anchor?" Juliette led on, pacing around the woods in circles. "What if the doll is the only thing keeping her in coyote form, or something? What does it look like, again?"

Stiles sighed. "You'd think she'd pick something prettier, but no, it's got dead soulless eyes and a bald head." He took out his phone. "Actually, Scott sent me a picture of it last night when they snuck in."

Juliette leaned closer to Stiles to take a better look at the picture. It showed a portrait of two girls in the garden, one of them holding a doll. "So, which one's Malia?"

"This one." Stiles pointed at the one on the right.

The brunette narrowed her eyes. "Stiles, it's not her doll. It's–"

"It's her sister's doll..." He said carefully, looking for the meaning behind it. "I know what she's doing..." He said finally. "I know where she's going." Stiles pulled out his phone, dialling Scott's number and putting it on speaker. "Scott, it's me, you need to call me back as soon as you can. It wasn't Malia's doll, it was her sisters. Malia leaves it in the car for her sister—"

Juliette stopped. "Like bringing flowers to a grave."

When Juliette looked down, she found that her foot was stuck in a trap. One probably planted by Mr. Tate in order to kill the coyote he thinks killed his family. Juliette tried to stay calm, and let Stiles continue the voice mail he's leaving to Scott.

Stiles nodded, still not looking back, not knowing Juliette was stuck in a trap. "Exactly! Okay, and we stole the flowers from the grave, so that's where she's headed, alright? The car wreck, she's headed to the car wreck! So just call me back whenever you— holy fucking shit."

Juliette didn't have to look up to know that Stiles finally realised the situation she was in. He ran over to her, panicked. "It's fine, I can handle it." She said, her voice unsteady.

"No, you can't." Stiles' hands started to shake in worry. Juliette slowly and carefully leaned down. "What the hell, Juliette! Stop moving!"

"I can't." Juliette groaned. "There's instructions on the bottom on how to disarm it, all I have to do is read it, alright?"

Stiles shook his head, kneeling down. "I'll do it." He found the instructions, but the letters scrambled together, reminding him he can't read.

The brunette shook her head. "It's fine, Stiles, okay? All I need to do is try not to apply pressure on my foot," It sounded more like she was talking herself through it than she was with him. "And just kneel down..." She slowly did so. "And read the instructions myself." As soon as she kneeled down, the teeth of the coyote trap moved up. "Fuck!" She screamed as she quickly got up so the trap could lay flat again.