I rise with the sun.

I'm on my way out the door when I make my first call. They pick up on the second ring. "This is Dr. Paylor," the voice greets me in a tone that lets me know I am interrupting something.

"Dr. Paylor," I say as warmly as I can. "This is Agent Everdeen."

"Ah, yes! I thought I would be hearing from you Agent Everdeen," her tone lightens up a bit when she realizes who she's speaking to. "I've confirmed all three identities of the victims. I'm just beginning my first autopsy."

Jackpot, I think to myself. "Perfect. Can you tell me if you think the victims are related to the others?"

There's a pause over the line. Then, she says, "I'll know more once I have completed my assessment. I can confirm that my initial findings show each victim is without a tongue and clean cut."

I let out the breath I was holding. So, these victims are most likely related to the others. "I've actually had an idea," I tell Dr. Paylor. "I was wondering if you could tell me more about the tongues. That's something I haven't been able to stop thinking about. The cut was clean and made while the victims were still alive, correct?"

"Yes, that is correct," she confirms.

"Was there anything abnormal in the toxicology reports?"

"No? Everything came back negative. Why?" Dr. Paylor sounds interested in this.

I quickly ask, "Poisons?"

She confirms by saying, "Negative for common drugs as well as arsenic and strychnine." She doesn't elaborate any further.

Finally, I ask the real reason I called. "Could you collect a toxicology sample from each of the victims and send it to Quantico? I want to run a more extensive test." While I trust, Dr. Paylor, Quantico is more equip than the small city of Panem.

"Agent Everdeen, do you have a theory that I should know about?" Dr. Paylor's voice changes a bit. It sounds more profession. I hope I did not offend her. I don't want her to tamper with the evidence or hinder my investigation.

"It's not really a theory," I try to explain. "More like a feeling. Plus, my supervisor will want to see evidence confirmed by the FBI's lab." The last part is a lie, but I hope it will help this request move along.

"There have been no signs of poisoning thus far," she says harsher.

"You're right," I say. "But its something I need to rule out. Can you still collect the samples?"

Her voice returns to normal. "Of course, Agent Everdeen."

"Thank you so much, Dr. Paylor."

The second call I make is to my supervisor at the FBI, Plutarch Heavensbee. Its an unproductive call, so unproductive that I don't know why I called. I tell him my case has been lit on fire. I discovered three bodied and still have more than half of the swamp to search. They bodies are most likely connected to the four previous victims. I've have a theory about why their tongues are missing. I'm sending evidence to the lab.

Plutarch tells me good job.

The phone call ends, and I am no closer to finding justice or obtaining back up. Plutarch wants more, so I'll give him more.

Our search party has expanded. It is not longer just me, Gale, and Peeta. Haymitch and three Virginia state police officers are already putting their gear on when I arrive. Haymitch fills me in quickly. Basically, he thought we need more help. Something tells me he did not have faith in the FBI stepping in.

With the extra help, we are able to work faster. By the time the sun sets, we've cleared the entire swamp.

But we do not find anymore bodies. The searchers, and I'm sure the remaining families, are devastated by the lack of results.

Haymitch asks me to meet him at the Sheriff's office for dinner in a tone that reminds me of when my father used to ask me to step away from my friends. I can tell by the tone and his demeanor that he is going to scold me. My suspicions are concerned when he says, "I have an angry coroner. She called me saying you thought she was incompetent of doing her job."

I obviously defend myself. "I said no such thing. I only asked for sampled to be sent to Quantico for testing."

"After you interrogated her?"

"I asked her simple questions!" I exclaim. "I want her to send some samples to my lab in Quantico. That's all."

Haymitch scoffs, "You know better than anyone how much pride the people of Panem have."

I challenge him with a glare. "Well, then she should be confident in her work. I'm sorry, Haymitch, but I need to follow my guidelines as well as yours. I did not break any rules."

Haymitch studies me for a moment. Then he says, "What's your theory?"

I shrug him off. "I don't have one."

"Bullshit."

~Age Eighteen~

I let Cato swirl me around the dance floor. For once, I'm carefree at a school function, and I don't care who sees, especially since all eyes are on me. We laugh and sweat and enjoy ourselves. I don't even feel awkward when Cato holds me close during the slow dances.

Peeta is nearby. I can feel his eyes on me every now and again but when I look, he diverts his eyes. My plan is working.

Cato offers to get us something to drink and leaves me on the corner of the dance floor near our table. We've decided to take a short break from dancing a cool off.

Peeta finds me, and I'm startled by how intense Peeta looks. I'm not sure where Delly is, but the look in Peeta's blue eyes make me forget about her existence entirely. He doesn't say anything. He just holds his hand out to me.

I take it.

We swag back and forth on the outskirts of the dancing circle. The song leads us, and I feel perfectly at peace in Peeta's strong arms. He makes me feel safe and secure. I know that I could get used to spending the rest of my life in Peeta's arms.

When the song ends, Peeta and I release each other. He gives me a look that I can't describe. "You look beautiful, Katniss." His voice is deep and full of mystery.

I turn as red as my lipstick. "You look very handsome, Peeta."

He opens his mouth to say something else, but something behind me catches his attention. He shuts his mouth, and it forms a tight line. "I'll see you later," he says and is gone before I have a chance to reply.

"Cornelius Snow?" Haymitch says slowly as if he is having trouble processing what I'm saying. He lets out a long, low whistle. "That's a name I haven't heard in a long time."

"An agent had suspicions that he was poisoning people- a toxin that he created. The agent had no evidence, but what if he was kidnapping people and testing it on them?" It's a stretch, but it's a hypothesis that I can't rule out yet. I also can't seem to forget about it.

Haymitch raises a scruffy eyebrow at me. "A few missing tongues gave you that idea?"

"What if he cuts off their tongue because the poison leaves sores or scars in their mouths and on their tongues?"

He looks at me like I'm crazy, spiraling down a rabbit hole of conspiracies. "The coroner didn't say anything about sores or scars."

"Because the bodies were already decomposing," I try to explain. "They could look like insect holes or deterioration of the tissues."

"There was no signs of poison in the toxicology report," Haymitch says, but I see the wheels start to turn in his head.

I smirk. I'm getting through to him. "Standard toxicology only checks for common poisons."

"The FBI can test for uncommon ones?"

"Yes," I nod.

Haymitch hesitates. "What kind of poison are you thinking?"

"Adenium obesum."

Haymitch glares at me. "A what?"

"A Desert Rose which is dangerously toxic to humans when ingested."

Haytmich shakes his head and simply says, " Paylor confirmed that the latest bodies were missing their tongues too. Clean cut. Do it. Send the samples."

My face breaks out in a smile. I've won. "Already being done. The lab confirmed that the samples have arrived."

Haymitch lets out a huff and shakes his head at me like he can't believe I'm being so cocky. Then, he hands me the dinner he's brought for us. Sandwiches from Mellark's. My mouth waters at the sight of the wrapper. We eat in silence for a bit. I think I've left Haymitch reeling, but he send me over the edge when he says, "Do you want to talk about the boy?"

I nearly choke on my turkey. "What?" I ask coughing.

"You rode with the boy this morning," he points out as if its the answer to life itself.

"We're neighbors," I say too quickly. Grumpily, I add, "He wouldn't move his car."

"He's missed you."

"Haymitch-"

He cuts me off. "Sweetheart, I let you two avoid your feelings for each other for years. I'll be damned if I let it happen again."

I can't look him in the eyes. Its like he's my Fairy God Father trying to push us together. In a low and quiet voice, I tell him, "It's none of your business."

"Well, it needs to be somebody's business. He didn't hurt you back then. It's time to stop acting like he's the bad guy," Haymitch tells me with no pity. "Your lives were moving in different directions, and he needs to accept that you did what you thought was right. You've been given a second chance, Sweetheart. Don't waste it."

~Age Eighteen~

Cato takes us back to his parent's house to change out of our formal clothes. It's a little awkward at first since his parents aren't home, but I pretend like everything lol is fine. I shouldn't make mountains out of mole hills. The faster I change, the faster we can get out of here and head to the party.

Cato leads to me to his bedroom, and I stand awkwardly in by the door with my bag. Cato's stands by his bed. His back is turned to me, so he doesn't see me blush when he takes off the jacket of his tux. Does he expect me to change right here? I gulp loudly as Cato begins to work on the buttons of his shirt. It must catch his attention. He turns to me slightly and smirks. "I don't mind if you change in front of me," he says slyly.

I scoff and roll my eyes. Nice try, Cato. "Well, I do."

Cato doesn't give me anymore trouble. He lets out a playful sigh. "Fine. The bathroom is across the hall."

I follow his instructions and lock the door behind me. After taking several deep breaths, I can't get myself to calm down. I don't feel comfortable. Something is making my stomach churn, and I can't shake the bad feeling I have. I grab my phone from the bag and dial Peeta's number. It rings a few times and goes to voicemail. I hang up and immediately dial back. Again, no answer.

Peeta and I have a code. If the other person calls three times in a row, it's an emergency. Like drop-everything- and-answer emergency. If the calls stop after two, it's a call-me-as-soon-as-possible situation.

With one call left, I have to quickly decide what I want. Do I want Peeta to come and get me from Cato's house? Or can it wait until I see him at the party? The feeling in my stomach is not gone and continues to grow stronger. I don't like being alone with Cato. With a shaky breath, I call Peeta a third time and pray that he will answer.

No answer.

"Damn it, Peeta!" I mutter under my breath and begin to change into something more comfortable. Cato will wonder what's taking me so long, and I don't want to tell him how uncomfortable his presence is making me feel. When I'm finished, I tuck my phone into my back pocket of my jeans, scoop my prom dress into the bag, and head out to find my date.

When I reenter Cato's bedroom, he's dressed in dark jeans and a white t shirt. He looks good. Too good. He's buckling his brown, leather belt when he sees me and smiles. "You ready to head to the party?" He asks in a voice is darker than before. It sends a shiver down my back.

I nod in agreement. I want nothing more than to be out of his house and in the presence of others. Cato smiles at me like he's trying to reassure me. "I just need to use the bathroom real quick. Make yourself comfortable." Then, he passes me to go to the bathroom.

It's a simple request so I comply and take a couple of steps into his room. He has a collection of pictures on his wall, so I take a closer look at them. Some are with his football buddies. Winning championships. Swimming in a lake. He looks happy and carefree.

When Cato enters his room again, he shuts his bedroom door behind him. I jump at the sound and turn quickly. I give him a confused look. I thought we were leaving.

Peeta answers my call on the first ring. "Katniss?" He sounds surprised that I called him. I'm surprised I called him too.

"We're going to question a person of interest tomorrow," I grunt out as I walk into my house. It's been a long day.

"Who?" He asks still confused. "Me and you?"

"Well, you've already inserted yourself in the investigation," I say sarcastically. Then I seriously add, "I need back up, and you're a better option than Gale."

In a serious tone, he asks, Do I get to carry a gun?"

"Don't push your luck."