A/N: Thank you so much everyone for all of your reviews! And all the follows and all the favs I got. You are all incredible and I'm so happy you like this story. Some of you mentioned how you like the little details I put in and I really appreciate that, because I honestly feel like those things can be hit or miss. Also, some of you mentioned you like how Maddie is noticing a lot more than just the things surrounding Phantom. Watching the show, I always got the impression that Maddie was extremely smart and observant (when/where she wanted to be) and I wanted to make sure this came through. It's nice to know you guys see it too. Please continue to let me know what you think!

Anyway, so next chapter, not a very exciting one but it's important. This is the last chapter I have completely written. After this all I have are just a bunch of incomplete scenes and notes, but don't worry! I will make sure there is a complete chapter for you next week, like I promised. I'm going to stop babbling now so you can just read the chapter like you really want.

Just as Maddie suspected, she was burnt by noon. But, aside from the ache across the back of her neck, she didn't mind. It gave her an excuse to stay in the RV while Jazz, Danny, and Jack spent the afternoon playing frisbee or, as Jack had renamed the game: "Fenton-Fris." Her husband had never been good with names—she had fought hard to get him to agree to Daniel—but reasoning with him on the naming of his inventions was pointless. Even if Danny was right and the game "Fenton-Fris" did sound like a family hair problem.

After applying aloe vera to her sunburnt skin, she began her search. She knew Jazz had taken the fabric strip. And yet…she'd originally suspected Danny. Maybe she should check his bag first, just in case the strip was there.

Danny's purple backpack sat innocently in the corner, slouched against the back wall of the RV. Despite its casual appearance, Maddie had the faintest feeling it was mocking her. A quick check out the window to make sure her family wasn't nearby, she unzipped the backpack. From it she pulled a change of clothes, a toothbrush and toothpaste, Danny's cell phone—he had two new texts from Sam and one from Tucker—and…a pair of Fenton phones? What were they doing in his bag?

Maddie carefully set them aside and reached into the bottom of the backpack. Her hand wrapped around something cool and metal. A soup thermos?

No.

The light in the RV illuminated more than just the contents of her son's bag. It wasn't a soup thermos. She should have known. Nothing having to do with her family was ever what it seemed. And this was no exception. Hidden at the bottom of Danny's backpack was an old Fenton thermos. With a crack at the opening and dents all along the sides, the thermos had clearly seen better days.

She ran a finger over the scorch mark in the center of the thermos. The tentacley shape looked oddly familiar. She flash-backed to yesterday, to lining up her shot, to watching her ectoblast hit Phantom's hand—the one holding his stolen thermos. The thermos fell from her hands and dropped to the floor where it rolled to the front of the RV and hid beneath the passenger seat, cowering in sudden fear much like she was.

She was right.

Danny and Phantom—they were working together or knew each other or were somehow connected. She didn't know exactly which of the three, but the evidence she'd discovered was irrefutable. It had all started with Danny's lab accident, when Phantom had died.

She hadn't found the piece of Phantom's suit like she wanted, but she still had another bag to check. And if she found it in Jazz's, then she knew both her children were in line with Phantom.

With a steady breath, Maddie fetched the broken thermos and returned it to her son's backpack. She couldn't dwell on what its presence meant. Not now. She'd have to store the clue in the back of her mind to revisit later.

One down, one to go, she thought.

Jazz's backpack was heavier than Danny's. One peek inside told her why: Jazz had brought three hardcover books with her on the trip, all probably around 400 pages. She pulled one from the bag. "The Psychological Self" the title read, "A Psychologist's Guide to Separating One's Identity from the Patient's."

She smiled. Only Jazz would bring such heavy reading on vacation.

Setting the books aside without so much as a glance at the other titles, she continued rifling through her daughter's stuff. In the back of her mind, a voice reminded her this was an invasion of privacy, a violation of the shaky trust she had with her children. Except that was the problem. Their trust was already shaken, and she had no idea why. The first step towards healing was to discover what the problem was. Only the truth would allow them to move forward.

Her fingers skimmed something smooth and familiar. From the shadows of the inside of the bag, she pulled a piece of hardware. Her latest invention. With wires still out in the open, it was incomplete. But that was only because it had mysteriously gone missing from the lab before she could finish it, before she'd even gotten a chance to name it. And now she'd found it in Jazz's backpack. Her daughter had taken it…but why?

She recalled the Saturday morning Jazz had bounced down the basement steps, eyes scouring the lab. When Jazz had plopped herself down on a stool beside her, she hadn't thought anything of it. And when her daughter started asking questions about the invention Maddie was working on, she had happily answered them. After all, it wasn't often her children took interest in her work. At least not in the way Jazz had that morning.

Normally her questions ended after "what is it," "what's it supposed to do," and "does it work?" But not that morning. She spent a better part of three hours down there with Jazz, working and talking about her invention.

She told her daughter how the new piece of equipment would greatly tip the scales of ghost hunting in their favor—how the invention was designed to not only track ghosts but show them in whatever form the ghost possessed. No longer would ghosts be able to take over a human body without her knowing. Any form the ghost took—human or ectoplasmic—would be detectable. And, she'd explained to Jazz, not only would they be able to find the ghost, once the ghost's ectosignature was recorded, the device would use the ectosignature to actually create and display an image of the form the ghost took.

The instantaneous production of an image had been the special something about her new device. And that morning, it hadn't just been her enthusiasm leaking out into the lab. Jazz had seemed genuinely excited about the invention, even happy for her. She could remember her daughter bouncing around the lab, even shaking in anticipation. Unless she'd misread Jazz and the girl wasn't quivering with excitement but fear.

One of the open wires snagged the skin beside her nail. She snatched her hand away from the device. Blood bubbled on her finger. Staring at the invention, she absentmindedly sucked the blood away.

Why had Jazz felt the need to steal the invention from her? Did she think she was protecting someone? A ghost? But why? Or did Jazz somehow think she was protecting her by taking away the new device? And if that was the case, what was she protecting her from? What was she getting herself into? Did she really know so little about Danny and Jazz?

Her children were more deeply involved than she originally thought. She could see how her conversation with Jazz that Saturday morning had been nothing more than a ruse. A plan to get information out of her so she could steal the invention when Maddie turned her back. She wondered if their conversation this morning had had an ulterior motive as well. And if it did, what was it?

She held onto her invention. She'd stow it in a safe place this time, away from her children. That thought scared her. She didn't want to keep things from Danny and Jazz. The ability to share her life's work with them had been one of her reasons for working from home. Hiding such things didn't sit well with her. But wasn't she already doing that? She hadn't told either of them about the piece of Phantom's suit she'd snatched or any of the suspicions floating around inside her head.

If she learned why Phantom's suit had the name "Fenton" stitched into it, then she would tell her children her concerns, she swore to herself. But first, she wanted the truth.

Switching hands, she reached further into her daughter's bag, her fingers following the inner seams to the bottom of the backpack. Crumbs, dust, and other small remnants of previous space holders congregated at the tips of her fingers. A single swipe of something smooth and cool to the touch, knocked away some of those remnants. Retracing her motions, she felt around for the stray object. She skimmed it again and froze. Could it be? Resolve filled her. She wouldn't know unless she looked. Taking the thin, silky thing between her thumb and index finger, she grew more sure of herself.

Careful not to lose her grip, Maddie pulled the familiar piece of fabric from the dark confines of the bag, revealing the scrap of Phantom's suit to the entirety of the assault vehicle. And as she did so, her heart shriveled up. Part of her had still hoped she wouldn't find it in Jazz's bag, that by not finding it among her daughter's things would mean Jazz wasn't involved like Danny was—that she at least didn't have to worry about one of her children.

Smoothing the fabric out over her knee, she knew it had been foolish of her to hope for such things. She'd wanted to share her work with her children, to get them to understand her passion. Perhaps she and Jack had been a little too insistent that Danny and Jazz join the family business. She'd always thought they had no interest, but she'd obviously been wrong. She traced the "Fenton" logo with her finger. Very wrong. They were interested, just in a different way. And now she wasn't so sure which way was better. Surely, as their mother, she would know best but, she wasn't so sure of herself anymore. Her children were smart. They knew the difference between right and wrong.

Somehow, someway, her children had aligned themselves with a ghost. A powerful ghost too. She needed to find out why. Just how deep did Danny's connection to Phantom run? And what role did Jazz play? Her daughter had taken the piece of fabric from her for a reason. That reason was perhaps just as important as the scrap of Phantom's suit she'd snagged.

She stared over at the invention she'd reclaimed from Jazz then back at the shred of fabric in her hand. Jazz might not notice the piece of Phantom's suit missing from her bag—it was so small—but she'd definitely notice the invention gone. Would such a realization help or hurt her in her search for the truth? She knew Jazz wouldn't be happy she'd rifled through her things, but if she learned what Maddie had discovered would she simply come to her and tell her the truth? She thought back to their conversation earlier.

You should be telling Danny that, Jazz had muttered under her breath.

Whatever was going on, Jazz wasn't going to be the one to tell her. Odds were, if she brought her suspicions to her daughter, she'd only tell her to speak to Danny. And she already knew she needed to do that. She only worried that if she went to him with false accusations he'd be just as closed off as ever. As it was, anytime she brought up his lab accident in conversation, he'd run from the room. Even when it first happened, she and Jack had been pulling teeth to get him to tell them about it.

No. It was better if neither of her children knew what she was doing until she had something more concrete. And that meant she couldn't take back her invention just yet. Sighing, she picked up the device and put it in Jazz's backpack, placing it, along with all her books, back the way she'd found them. The scrap with the tag had really been all she wanted anyway.

Maddie brought the black and white silk closer to her face for further inspection. Woven into the fabric above those damning words was what looked like a stray thread. Using her nails, she plucked at the end of the white thread and pulled it from the fabric. It was thinner and less conforming than thread.

She wanted to examine the string and the fabric more, but she knew she'd already spent too much time in the RV. It wouldn't be long before one of her family members came to check on her. Her search for the truth would have to wait. Another sleepless night wouldn't bother her.

A crash reached her ears, muted by the thick walls of the RV. But even with the added protection of the assault vehicle, Maddie knew the crash was much too loud for it to be part of her family's game of "Fenton-Fris." Sealing the piece of fabric and string inside the pocket of her jumpsuit, she rushed to the window.

The scorpion ghost had returned.