Weeks after the storm, a gray, drizzly Sunday in Seattle, the doorbell rang. Vanessa Caulfield opened the door to find a woman in her early 20's, impeccably dressed in a pinstripe suit, carrying a small briefcase. "Hello," the stranger said, "is Maxine Caulfield at home?"

Vanessa knit her brow, glancing at the quarter-million-dollar car in the driveway. "May I ask what this is regarding?"

"Maxine was an acquaintance of my younger brother, at Blackwell. He… didn't make it, and I was hoping I could talk to her about him."

"Oh, I'm so sorry for your loss. Of course." She called back into the house. "Max, you have a visitor!"

When Max appeared at the door, Vanessa ducked away. The woman held out her hand. "Kristine Prescott."

Max's eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms. "I have nothing to say to you."

Kristine dropped her hand to her side, frowning slightly. "Please, Ms. Caulfield. I'm not like the rest of my family. I know I can never make up for the harm they caused, but I am trying to do something good in the world. If you'll hear me out I think you'll agree. And I need your help."

"Fine. Speak."

"It would be best if we could go somewhere more private."

Max sighed. "OK. We'll talk in my room, but my partner will be there too."

"Would that be… Chloe Price?"

Max gave Kristine a dark look, turned, and walked inside. "Chloe!" she called.


Kristine sat on Max's desk chair, while Max sat on the edge of the bed. Chloe stood at the door, scowling.

"I want to be very clear," Kristine began. "I am not here to pursue any kind of vendetta. To me, my parents were rarely more than angry strangers. I loved Nathan, and I blame my father for his death. For a lot of deaths."

"Then why are you here?" Chloe asked, already angry.

"To be direct… I'm the sole remaining heir to the family fortune, and I plan to place the vast majority of it in a charitable foundation. It's a considerable endowment and I think I'll be able to accomplish a great deal. Rural development, education, clean water, that sort of thing. However, it can't happen until my father is declared dead. At the moment he is simply 'missing', because his car was found intact outside of the storm track. It seems he got out of Arcadia Bay and then disappeared without a trace."

Max kept her expression carefully neutral. "What does that have to do with me?"

Kristine cocked her head to one side, looked Max hard in the eye. She spoke quietly. "I've put together some of the pieces. I know he was involved with… the unseen world, and I know he was looking for you. I strongly suspect you know what actually happened to him."

"Nope," Chloe said, "you've got the wrong girl."

Kristine glanced up at her, then looked back at Max. "Obviously a scenario you'd be reluctant to discuss. But that's not why I'm here. I'm here to ask you to testify that you took his car to escape the storm, and that you never saw him. The police would have to conclude that he was another victim of the tornado, and close the case."

Chloe recoiled. "You want Max to confess to grand theft auto that never happened? You're totally high!"

Kristine shrugged. "You did it to save your own life, and you didn't keep the car. Nobody's going to file charges given the circumstances. I've prepared an affidavit for you to sign." She opened her briefcase, took out a single sheet of paper, handed it to Max.

"And… why should I do this?" Max asked, incredulous.

"As it stands, you were presumably the last ones to see Sean Prescott. Soon enough the police will be knocking on your door. Do you want to answer their questions? This paper gives them all the answers they need."

Max looked up at Chloe, then back to Kristine. "You seem pretty sure he's not going to turn up. What exactly do you think happened to him?"

"I used to sneak into his things and read the old journals he inherited from my grandfather. I assume that, one way or another, that old grizzly he was so afraid of finally caught up with him."

Max's eyes went wide. No concealing her surprise there. Kristine continued. "And I had been wondering if you were there when it happened." She sighed. "It looks like I was right."

"…yeah." Max admitted, after a pause. "That was one angry bear."

"I won't ask about your involvement. I doesn't matter now, and he got what was coming to him. I don't suppose you came across his notebooks?"

"We… did."

"Do you have them?"

"Burned."

"Probably for the best. Obviously neither of us want an ongoing investigation. So, can you sign this?"

Max read the paper. It claimed that, as the storm bore down on Blackwell, Max had found Prescott's car in the parking lot with the keys inside. She hadn't actually been at Blackwell at that point, but she supposed nobody who knew that was still alive. She signed.

"Excellent," said Kristine, taking the page and putting it back in her briefcase, producing two business cards. She handed one each to Max and Chloe. "I think my family owes you both a great deal more than I could hope to repay, but… the Prescott Foundation will be offering two very generous university scholarships. I strongly encourage you both to apply."

"Um… thanks." said Max, taking the offered card. Chloe took hers without a word.

After handing out the cards, Kristine slumped lower the chair, her professional poise ebbing away. She looked down at her hands, frowning. She really wasn't much older than Max and Chloe.

"With that business out of the way… I would actually like to ask about my brother. Did you know Nathan?"

"We both did," said Max, "but honestly…" she trailed off, searching for words.

Chloe was not prepared to be diplomatic. She started shouting. "You want to know about Nathan?! He fucking murdered my girlfriend! And he drugged me and tried to tie me up so he could take sicko pictures! And I wasn't the only one! This whole fucking thing happened because of that psychopath!"

Halfway through this outburst Kristine had screwed her eyes shut, pinched the bridge of her nose. "Please, enough. I didn't realize he was that far gone. I'd say it's all my dad's fault, but he got it from his father, and he got it from his father. How far back does it go? These fucking men. I'm so thankful I was born a girl so that my dad didn't try to make me his successor. Such a fucking waste." She pulled a handkerchief from her suit jacket and blotted the corners of her eyes.

Chloe glared down at her. "If you're looking for sympathy, you're in the wrong house."

"I know," said Kristine, looking up at Chloe. "But at least you two have each other. A month ago I was living in a village in Brazil. I had friends there, nobody knew about my family. Now I'm back here… and there's no one left." She sighed. "I suppose I should be going. Thank you for cooperating. Do contact me if you need anything; I look forward to reviewing your scholarship applications."

She got up and found her own way out of the house, high heels tapping on the wood floor. Max remained sitting on the edge of the her bed, staring down at the business card in her hand.