It was around 11:00 when Blaine awoke suddenly to the sound of his phone ringing. He groaned and buried his head in his pillow. His whole body felt achy, but his head felt like it might very well explode. With a sigh, he dug into the pocket of his pants, which he was still wearing, and flipped the phone open. "Hello?" he grunted.

Bethany's voice responded with a sly, "Morning, sunshine. Late night?"

Blaine murmured an almost inaudible "What time is it?"

"11:07," Beth told him with a laugh. "Wow, it sounds like a [i]really[/i] late night. Don't tell me you put out on the second date."

Blaine's head pounded and he felt another wave of nausea come on. After a few seconds, he heard Bethany say, "Blaine?"

He swallowed thickly and answered croakily, "Yeah. Yeah, I'm here."

"You want me to call you back later?" she asked. There was concern in her voice now.

"No," he said, forcing his voice from his throat. "No, I'm fine. Just – headache."

Bethany said nothing for a long moment. "Well," she finally said, "if you don't want me to call you back, don't keep me in suspense. What happened last night?"

Blaine thought about it. He truly did not remember much. "We uh, we missed the movie," he croaked. "Jerry forgot his wallet."

"Oh, Jerry, now, is it?" Beth said in a sing-song teasing tone.

"I..." Blaine wanted to say more. He knew they must have been drinking. He'd drank before. But for some reason the rest of the night was a bit of a blur. "I should probably call you later. My head is really killing me."

Bethany replied with a sympathetic noise. "Ok, fine, but you have to call me later ok? Promise?"

"Promise." He hung up the phone, let it drop from his hand to the carpeted floor. His head still buried under the pillow to block the glow of the mid-day light, he shut his eyes again and drifted back to sleep.

By the time Hiram and LeRoy arrived home Sunday afternoon, Blaine was up and about. He still felt a little ill, but nibbling on some dry toast and washing it down with a can of Diet Coke had settled his stomach significantly. He'd even managed to shower and wash his face so that when the two men walked through the door, he looked mostly human, even in his own opinion.

Rachel hugged them both and welcomed them home with enthusiasm. Blaine just sat at the table watching the overenthusiastic display as he sipped his second pop can of the day.

"And how was your weekend, Blaine?" Hiram asked. The boy shrugged.

"Fine."

Hiram's smile faltered, but only for a moment. They were back to one-word answers. One step forward, two steps back, Hiram thought to himself. But out loud he said sincerely, "Well, that's just fine, then," and grinned at his son. At least nothing terrible had happened, right? Both his kids were alive and well and had managed to avoid any major trouble for one whole night, and if that wasn't something to celebrate, Hiram didn't know what was. He sent a wink LeRoy's way and missed the way Blaine's eyes caught Rachel's and narrowed slightly.

"Hello, Mr. Berry, this is Detective Simmons with the Columbus P.D. I have been trying to contact you regarding your son, Blaine Anderson. We really need to schedule a time to speak to him. Please give me a call back at 555…"

Alison was using her "cheery" voice, the one she reserved for family members of persons of interest. She wanted them to cooperate. She wanted them to think she was their friend. Really, she wanted to manipulate them into helping her even when it wasn't in the best interest of their loved one, and most times, it worked. The problem was, it hadn't worked. Not yet, anyway. The Berrys were out of town and not answering their phones. At least, they weren't picking up the phone whenever she called.

And somehow, Blaine Anderson wasn't anywhere he was supposed to be, which struck her as even more suspicious. It wasn't her job to jump to conclusions, but it wasn't her job to let people off easy just because their mother was dead. In fact, quite the opposite.

Blaine might have been a sophomore in high school, but he was old enough to have been a senior. Only inconsistent attendance and behavioral issues kept him from being on target to graduate. That meant, of course, that he was 17 and old enough to know right from wrong. Old enough…to be tried as an adult if push came to shove and the evidence turned out to point in his direction.