A/N: Surprise! You two chapters of this instead of one this week. :P

Before we get started, I would like to thank everyone that read last chapter! I would also like to give a huge thank you to suitelifeforever9, winterschild11, RainbowDiamonds, and Guests for reviewing!

I hope you all enjoy!

The Macmillans lived in a quiet cul-de-sac. Everything about the exterior seemed the polar opposite to the Greene home. Margaret Macmillan was clearly serious about maintaining the two-story building, and the house was the picture of Nantucket perfection, with white and blue shutters and a neatly trimmed yard.

She certainly put out better snacks than the last few places we'd been. We sat at her fancy table as she served fancy tea and little cookies with a fancy name. I couldn't remember what the fancy name was, but that didn't stop me from having six. Maybe I wouldn't be so hungry if my partner believed in lunches. And bathroom breaks.

It helped distract me from our marked lack of progress. Frankly, I didn't know how many versions of the same answer I could handle. Everyone we spoke to seemed to have gotten a hold of Stock Answers for Suspicious People and memorized that shit, cover to cover.

"No, I had no idea where Kelsea was headed the day she disappeared. No, we didn't have any problems. No, she didn't have any issues with anyone. Everyone loved Kelsea." My all-time, down home, fan favorite? "She didn't have an enemy in the world."

I quietly observed Jenna as her mother steamrolled her and answered yet another question that hadn't been directed at her. In her high school photos, Jenna sported short, spiky blonde hair and excessive black eyeliner. This Jenna, with the shoulder-length brown hair and muted makeup, was a complete three-sixty from the Jenna of five years earlier. She looked like exactly what she was-an elementary school teacher. Fresh-faced. Clean cut. Trustworthy.

She didn't make much eye contact and busily doctored her tea with cream and sugar as though it were brain surgery. She hadn't said much since we'd arrived. Hell, she didn't need to say anything with her mother serving as her mouthpiece. I started to understand why she insisted on meeting with her mother there.

I cut in on Margaret mid-ramble. "Jenna, did Kelsea tell you anything about being unhappy at home?"

"Absolutely not," Margaret broke in and pushed the plate of cookies closer to us both to silently remind us to partake. "Kelsea was a happy, well-adjusted girl. Of course she had the normal teenage gripes-she hated having to babysit her younger brothers, she wanted more allowance, a bigger room, her own bathroom...nothing out of the norm. She was planning on going to college, you know."

"So if Kelsea had any plans to run away, would she have shared them with you?"

"Of course not," She said sternly. "Jenna would've dissuaded anything like that immediately.

Litany. I puffed out my cheeks. Heard it all before. If someone would come up with something new, I would give them a thousand bucks, cash, on the spot. "We'd like to hear that from Jenna, if you don't mind."

"If she was going to take off, I would've known." Jenna risked a glance up from the table. "She was my best friend. She had plans...Kelsea was going to be an art major. You should have seen some of her stuff. She was wonderful with acrylics and watercolors."

I smiled. "I saw some of her work in her bedroom."

"Then you know. And that's not even her best stuff. You should talk to her art teacher at the Annex. Jennifer, I think?"

"We spoke with her yesterday," I said. "She said Kelsea was thinking about going to Pemberton?"

Jenna shook her head slowly. "Never heard of it. But she was definitely entertaining some scholarship options."

"Would you mind telling me what you and Kelsea spoke about on the night of her disappearance?"

Jenna shrugged. "We talked briefly on the phone before she went to work."

"How did she seem? Nervous? Angry? Had she gotten into a fight with anyone?"

"She was her usual self."

"Do you remember what you spoke about?"

"Not much." She shrugged again. "We didn't talk for long."

"It was a forty two minute conversation."

She sent me an exasperated look that was at odds with her timid personality. "I don't remember, okay? It was a long time ago. I'm sure it was just the normal crap teenage girls talk about."

James sent me a warning look. Yeah, yeah, yeah. We'd already been kicked out of a house twice. Might as well go for the hat trick. Besides, those other two had been James' fault, not mine.

"Dr. Knight forgets that not everyone has perfect recall," James said dryly. "Why don't you tell me what you do remember?"

I scowled as Margaret began to ramble on again and talked over her daughter. Shows what James knew. My memory was good, but hardly eidetic. I listened as long as I could, but broke in right around the time Margaret told us about Jenna's graduate school acceptances. "Can I use your restroom?"

"Of course." Margaret nodded toward the hallway. "Through there and to the right."

I escaped the table and left James to suffer without a smidgeon of guilt. Needless to say, I wasn't going to hurry back.

XxX

I used my alone time to make a nuisance of myself and poke around upstairs. It wasn't a difficult task-Margaret's voice carried like she was using a megaphone, and she clearly wasn't concerned about an FBI agent loose in her home. Probably because there was nothing to find. It looked like a 1980s bed and breakfast. Even though the decor was old-fashioned, everything was neat and well-tended. And covered in flowers. Big, yellow flowers. I grimaced at the busy wallpaper. But bad decor was not a crime. Unfortunately.

I peered in the doors that were either ajar or wide open and cataloged them as I passed. There was a master bedroom that clearly belonged to Margaret-again with the giant flowers decorating every possible surface. Jenna's room was two doors over, clearly still a monument to her high school years. Posters, ribbons, and awards littered the walls. A few volleyball trophies lined the dresser. Stuffed animals nearly covered an entire shelf-keepsakes from the looks of them, preserved in dust covers.

There was only one closed door in the hallway. To judge by the undisturbed layer of dust beneath the door, it hadn't been open in some time. I paused before I opened it and glanced back a few times to make sure the coast was clear. I heard the murmur of conversation, so I knew I had a few more minutes to myself.

What I thought was a guest room was clearly a child's room. The floor looked like a baseball diamond, complete with bases and a pitcher's mound. A beanbag chair in the shape of a pitcher's mitt was angled near the picture window to match the pitcher's mitt lamp. Rounded wooden letters spelled out the name Aaron above the twin bed.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I fished it out as I continued to inspect the display of glass baseballs. "Knight."

"Did you miss me?"

"Do you really want an answer to that, Lucy? An honest one, that is?"

She chuckled. "I'll take that as a yes."

"Do you have anything else about the insurance policy?"

I could almost hear her eye roll. "No. I've only been able to unearth serial killers, track fugitives, liaison between the BAU-3 and the other departments, and every other crazy request that you've been able to come up with for four years. But no, I wasn't able to find out anything about a single insurance policy."

"Yes, but can you do all of those things without attitude? That particular trick I haven't seen yet."

Her huff could have been annoyance or laughter. "Dinah has two insurance policies on Kelsea. One for 100K and one for 25K," she said. "Either way that's a hell of a lot of insurance on a healthy kid."

"When did they mature?"

"About a month before her disappearance."

"Any other beneficiaries?"

"Nope. But no worries, she took one out on the step-pops too. I also found records of two other insurance settlements in her past-a fire that burned down the family home and another fire that destroyed her car ten years ago."

I clicked my teeth as I pondered that. It certainly put a new spin on things. "So she could be a lifelong con artist rather than a killer."

"Jury's still out. You want to put a unit on the stepfather? You know, so he doesn't end up facedown in a river somewhere?"

As much as Luke Greene might deserve that fate, I figured I should do something. I was pretty sure protecting people was in some oath I'd taken or whatever. "I can give you a tentative yes on that. I want to run it by James first, and then I'll text you," I said begrudgingly. "You can set it up with Dak Zevon."

"Zevon. You mean that yummy detective back in Brickell Bay?"

"He's married." I did so love to douse her joy with a bucket of cold water.

"Aren't they all?"

She clicked off with a disgruntled noise, and I slid the phone back in my pocket. I stood for a moment in the silence and analyzed the few threads of energy that remained.

"Another room frozen in time," I murmured as I picked up one of the signed baseballs. "But for whom?"

"This room belonged to my brother, Aaron."

I didn't need to turn around to know Jenna was behind me. I turned anyway and hoped I didn't look as guilty as I felt for snooping. "I thought you said you were an only child."

"I thought you said you had to use the bathroom," She retorted. "The bathroom is downstairs."

"I got turned around." I shrugged. "What happened to Aaron?"

"My brother died when he was ten." She plucked the baseball from my hand and set it back on the dresser. "He was coming home with a friend, and they were in a car accident."

"I'm sorry." I felt lower than dirt for even asking. "I didn't mean to bring up any bad memories."

"It's fine. I guess it's your job or whatever." She folded her arms across her chest. Who're you going to talk to next?"

"We're seeing where the investigation takes us. Who do you think we should talk to?"

"Maybe you should talk to Brock. That was her boyfriend."

I nodded. "He's on the list. Anyone else?"

"Rachel, maybe. They used to be close. Maybe Amber. They used to live on the same street. Kelsea would give her a ride to school sometimes."

"She's on the list, too." I didn't want to destroy the equanimity between us, but I wanted to get some straight answers before Margaret the mouthpiece showed up again. "Are you sure there's nothing you can tell me that I might not already know about Kelsea?"

"I've told you everything I know." Her blue eyes met mine steadily, but her body language said something different.

"Do you know where she could've been earning extra money?"

She blinked. "Extra money?"

It clearly wasn't what she expected me to ask. Which made me wonder. What had she expected?

"She had a job at the gas station."

"I'm talking serious money." For a teenager who worked part-time anyway. "Like a couple grand."

"Grand?" She shook her head. "No. I have no idea."

I nodded. "Thought I'd ask. What about her relationship with her parents? Was everything copacetic?"

"As far as I know. I will say that she was getting…" Jenna trailed off, and looked apprehensive.

"She was getting what?" I prodded.

"She was getting a little curious about her father. Her birth father," she clarified. "Wanted to know who he was, at least."

"Did she talk to her mother about finding him?"

"Yeah. She wasn't pleased. Told her to stop digging up long-buried business."

My brow furrowed. I'm sure that went over well. "And did she?"

"Did she what?"

"Stop digging."

"That's not exactly Kelsea's style," she said wryly. "Of course she kept digging. Just behind her mother's back.

"Do you know if she spoke to anyone about it? Hired anyone?"

"As far as I know, it was mostly internet searches. I don't think she got all that far. She told me his name was John Travis."

I sighed. The internet. Oh, goody. That should really narrow down the pool of weirdos. "Anything else you need to tell me?"

She sent me a glare. "Why do you keep asking me that?"

Because you seem shady as fuck. I smiled tightly. "No reason."

I waited until we were in the car to fill James in. He listened without interrupting, and the only sign of his impatience was the tapping of his long fingers on the steering wheel. Even then it wasn't really an impatient tap. More of a thinking tap. It's one of the reasons we always worked so well together-he knew when to jump in and when to step back and let me do my thing.

"So this John Travis person," he said when I finally wound down. "You think he's bad news?"

"I don't know. He's definitely someone we need to find," I said as I tapped a message into my phone.

"Easier said than done. I wish we had her computer."

"We don't need her computer. I have Lucy."

"Lucy?"

"Yes, Lucy," I said again, as though saying it again would make more sense. "As in my agency contact. If she can't find him, he wasn't meant to be found."

"Fobbing off legwork on someone else? Count me in." He stared off into space for a moment and then shook his head. "I'll never understand why people go hunting for the parents who gave them up. For whatever reason. Some things are better left alone."

"Spoken like someone who knows exactly where he came from."

"Unfortunately." His mouth twisted. "Most times the person they're hunting for is a person who walked away without a second glance. People don't change."

"Some people do."

I could feel his eyes on me as I typed, but I didn't elaborate and he didn't ask. He broke the silence first, voice purposefully neutral. "We should head back. Maybe grab some dinner?"

I paused. "I was thinking about eating at Katie's. Did you want to-"

"No thanks." He cut me off, mouth twitching. "There are many things I've forgotten over the years, but your sister's cooking will never be one of them."

"I'll give her your compliments," I said with a grin. "I need to get my butt over to her house before she comes looking for me. So, when I return, I'll probably smell faintly of honeysuckle candles and narcotics."

He chuckles. "It'd better be faint. I'd hate to book you, Knight."

XxX

My sister's house was a cozy, low-energy wonder that she and intrepid brother-in-law, Rick, built with their own hands. At first glance, it looked like a strange large hill of grass. Upon closer inspection the windows and doors-all natural wood, of course-differentiated them from the surrounding landscape. When they finished building, I stood in their doorway-sorry, cobblestoned walkway-in speechless silence as they proudly told me the details of its construction, which used locally sourced and natural woodland materials. I blurted out, "and the city gave you permits for this?"

They were not amused.

I had to admit, once the grass grew in lush, thick, and green, the house looked like it was almost built into the hillside. Form and function existed in perfect harmony with nature and imagination. Surrounded by trees and wild purple flowers, the overall effect was like something out of a Brothers Grimm fairytale. It was unique. It was odd. It was beautiful. And it definitely fit my offbeat sister.

A single energy-saver porch bulb glowed in the dark hollow of the front door as I made my way up the drive. My nose twitched. The smells of home cooking filtered through the open windows, but I wasn't fooled. Katie was entirely too invested in health and living and harmony with nature to cook anything that could taste good. The birchwood door was unlocked-despite my constant preaching-and I ducked into the cozy living room.

"Katie?" I called out to the empty room.

"In the kitchen."

I batted past an intrusive dreamcatcher and made my way to the small kitchen. My brain had barely a second to send my arms the Open signal before a blurry shape launched itself at me. I had another moment to hug the flurry of energy before she smacked me upside the head.

"Ow! Jesus, what is wrong with you?" I added a little drama to it, but it did hurt. I let her go and rubbed at the back of my head.

It didn't seem like a tiny little thing with flowers in her hair would be able to do that much damage. But our parents put us in karate. Our sensei dubbed Katie a slacker who couldn't slouch her way past a yellow belt. Must be all that kale juice, then.

She smacked me again.

"What the hell, Katie?" I growled and ducked a little. "Is this what passes for a greeting around here?"

"It is when you haven't been home in a year," she snapped. Then she hugged me again. "I'd better take a picture of you, just so I'll remember what you look like."

I rolled my eyes and watched her warily as she went back to the stove. In case she decided to Chuck Norris me again. Slap me once, shame on me, and all that. "I do have a demanding job, you know."

"I'm sure it is demanding, trying to find any way possible to avoid home."

I wasn't going to touch that with a ten-foot, electrified pole. Luckily I was an expert at deflection. "Where are my nieces?"

"Somewhere upstairs pretending to do homework," she said. "You want some tea?"

I barely held in a shudder. Just barely. Her tea usually had more leaves than liquid and was just this side of awful. "No thanks. Do you need help with dinner?"

"No, I'm almost done. As usual, you're timing is useless. I hope three bean salad is okay."

"Anything you make is fine." I hadn't had a home-cooked meal since...well, since the last time I'd eaten here. I gave her a sly look and secretly hoped, in the way all brothers can't help but hope, that I could set her off. "Any hopes for chicken?"

"Does chicken have a face?" she asked, not really expecting an answer.

"Of course. What kind of scary ass chicken have you been eating?"

She shook a cucumber at me, and I held up my hands in peace. I don't know exactly when she went to the dark side, but she'd been a vegetarian since we were kids. She'd stormed into my room, ranting and raving about some PETA video, and then proceeded to use tongs, gloves, and a garbage bag to rid the house of "anything with a face."

Just remembering made me grin. Mom was less than pleased about that. It provoked a spectacular argument. And considering it practically took a political coup to get our hippy, New Age mother to lift an eyebrow, the volume they achieved was impressive. I only heard the beginning before our father flushed me out of my eavesdropping space and sent me outside.

Despite my misgivings, dinner was actually tasty. I had two helpings of the colorful salad and something soy-still didn't know what it was supposed to be-and washed it down with carrot juice. I think. Afterward, I chucked my tie, rolled up my sleeves, and helped Katie clean up. She washed and I dried in companionable silence. Or what I thought was companionable silence. I glanced over between the dishes to find her looking at me expectantly, holding out a skillet.

I met that look with a blank stare of my own. Silent. Stubborn. You will not speak. You know how Katie does this. She gets to staring at you with those eyes, and suddenly you're drinking kale juice and getting your aura cleansed. You will not say one bloody-

"Will you stop staring at me?" I finally blurted and snatched the pan. I dried it vigorously. "I can't discuss an ongoing case with you."

"I don't remember asking you to."

No, she hadn't. But some needy, desperate part of me wanted to share with my twin, and she knew that. I wanted to understand what was going on in my own body, in my own head. Maybe I couldn't talk about the case, but...well, for the first time in a long time, I was glad that Katie was so different. She embraced eccentricities. And seeing ghosts could definitely be classified as...eccentric.

In for a penny, in for a pound. "Katie, do you ever...see things?"

She raised a brow. "What kind of things?"

"I don't know. Things. Things that no one else can see?"

"Like what?"

I huffed out a frustrated breath and balanced the pan in the drying rack, folded the dish towel about four times, and draped it over the sink. Stalling. Worrying my lip with my teeth. She was going to make me say it, and I might as well get it over with. "Like spirits?"

I expected her to look at me like I was crazy. I should have known better. She just cocked her head. "You know, it's funny. I've never pictured you as the type."

My brow furrowed. "What type?"

"I don't know, it's just that...you've always been so determined to be straight and narrow. On the right path. Straight A's, early admission, FBI...I guess some part of me has always wondered if you saw them too."

"Straight and narrow?" I scowled. "You know, someone recently called me a buttoned up G-man. I'm starting to get offended. Just because you wear a tie doesn't mean...wait a minute." Something she said finally filtered in, and I blinked. "Wait a damn minute. What do you mean too?"

Her face creased in a smile, and tiny laugh lines deepened around her eyes. "I see them sometimes. Glimpses of them. Shadows of them. They don't talk to me, though. I keep trying to channel my energy to get more in tune with my spiritual side, but it hasn't worked yet. Do they talk to you?"

"They won't fucking stop talking," I muttered.

"Figures." Her smile faltered a bit. "Well, I wouldn't have thought you were spiritual enough to guide a fig newton, but they've obviously chosen you."

I was going to let that fig newton thing go. For the moment. "Chosen me? What does that even mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like."

"Ugh." It was a little more than I bargained for. A little too much for my "straight and narrow" mind to take. I rubbed my temples. "Does this mean I have to get some sort of superhero outfit and report to S.H.I.E.L.D.? Is Samuel Jackson going to pop out someplace and tell me to catch these motherfucking ghosts?"

When she looked at me, I sighed, folded arms, and leaned back against the sink. "Do you ever wonder why we are...the way we are?"

"No." She shrugged. "We're just able to access different channels than other people do."

"My...channels?" I didn't need a mirror to know my eyebrows were just about in my hairline. "How do you turn them off?"

"Do you even want to?"

"Of course I do!" I exploded. "I don't want ghosts popping up in my fucking room all the time. In my car. In my office. In my life."

"Well, maybe if you talked to them, they wouldn't have to track you down."

That was one solution. I shook my head. Or they could just find someone else. "So what are you saying? I'm some kind of medium?"

She shrugged. "It's all just energy of the Earth. And energy can neither be created nor destroyed. So when you die, your energy is still here, just absorbed into the Earth. It takes a very special person to get in touch with that energy."

I dug my thumbs into my temples. I was getting a real headache. "Don't bring Newton into this. Please. Don't fucking desecrate Newton."

"You and your science." She rolled her eyes. "You're always looking for a reason why. Sometimes it just is. We're like this because our parents were. And their parents were. Just like your children will."

"I'm gay," I said wryly.

"You can still have children. Last time I checked, when you don't sleep with women, they don't make you turn in your sperm."

"Always the poet, Katie." At her shrug, I scowled. "I'm just glad we weren't triplets. One of you is truly enough."

She shrugged again. "I'm glad, too. They probably would have tried to name that poor bastard Earth."

I raked a hand through my hair and tried to think for a moment. I hated to admit it, but she was right. About our parents trying to name our triplet Earth and everything else. My concrete mind was ready to explode with such abstract ideas. I liked things to make sense. To be in order.

My colleagues saw a well-ordered desk and an unruffled appearance. My few lovers had called me cold and reserved. At least that's what James called me before I left. My mouth quirked. Some of the things anyway.

I was a Jedi master at faking order. Ghosts fit nowhere in my master plan.

"This is a lot to process," I finally whispered. "A lot to believe."

"Then prove it to yourself. Ask your ghost something. Really talk to him."

Well, that there just proved how crazy we both were. That actually sounded like a good idea-for the next day. In the meantime, I was going to relax and try to forget this conversation ever happened. "Thank you. I think you've been helpful. For once."

She scowled. "Earth would never talk to me like this."

"Shut up, Katie."

Done! So we've officially met Katie! And Kendall has finally learned a bit more about why he can see ghosts.

I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter, as well as if you happened to have a favorite part/moment!

Again, I hope that you enjoyed and that you all are safe and well. :) I posted this chapter early because the next one probably won't be up for a little while. The earliest it'll probably be up is sometime next weekend. But there will definitely be new chapters of other stories before then. ;)

Until then!

-Epically Obsessed