PETER
THE PIT IS filled with old Dauntless and fringe transfers alike. People crowd onto the benches, babbling on about one thing or another. It's been two weeks since Four went missing, and there still haven't been any new leads. I take a seat next to Justin who's by himself at a table in the corner of the room.
"She still won't talk to you?" I ask.
He shakes his head. "I was so stupid to accuse him like that, especially without any real proof."
"But it was with good intention," I say.
He ignores me and continues to poke at the food on his plate. He hasn't even taken a bite of his breakfast.
"Listen, I was thinking that if I went asking around, I might be able to come up with some new clues that could lead us to Four. Christina's never really been on my side either, for some reason, so do you want to come with me?"
Justin looks up, and then back down at his plate.
"Sure. I'll meet you at the car in a half hour." Then he leaves, his food still uneaten.
Justin stands by the car, a small piece of paper clasped in his hand.
"What's that?" I ask, pointing to his hand.
"It's a list," he says, "of all the people I think we should talk to."
He seems to be in a better mood than at breakfast.
"We already interviewed the twenty-two people who were at the meeting when Abraham mentioned Tobias' trip, and some did relay the information to others. However, by that point, the trip was less then twenty-four hours away, so the time it would take to spread the word and form an ambush was too long for one of them to be the traitor. I also have a few people that we haven't talked to yet who I think may know a thing or two."
We climb into the car and I look at him. "Where to first?"
"The farming district," he says. He fills me in as we drive. "There's a man who came from the fringe a few months ago. His sister was at the meeting and he heard about the trip from her. No one really knows what he did before he came here, or even what part of the fringe he was from, so there's a chance he was associated with Viktor.
"Suspect number two: a woman who was also at the meeting, who seems to have a grudge against Evelyn. She was a fancy of Abraham's before Evelyn, so we might be dealing with a case of jealousy, perhaps taken a bit too far."
"I thought you said that it would have been impossible for anyone who found out through Abraham to have spread the information in time?"
"Improbable, but not impossible. I narrowed it down to these two who had the highest potential."
The small buildings that signify the farm district come into view, and I pull over, off the dirt road.
"The first person is in building 2A."
The basic wooden door is slightly ajar, even though autumn has come early this year. I knock gently, but no one answers.
"Hello?" Justin calls out.
"Do you think we should see if they're home?" I ask when still nobody answers.
"I guess."
The door creaks as I push it open, making me feel like I'm in some horror scene, an innocent victim walking into a trap. I have to remind myself that the possibility is actually true because we're here to find a traitor capable of giving someone up to a vicious killer.
Just like the last time I was here with Christina and Evelyn, there isn't a single light bulb in the room. Comfy furniture crowds the foyer and candles watch us from every shelf. Their wax is cold and the wicks are half burnt. Without that light, the room is incredibly dim, and I bang my toe on the corner of the couch. I cry out, but Justin quickly shushes me.
"Did you hear that?" he says.
"What, my foot being sacrificed to the damn chair leg?" I ask sarcastically.
"No, that thud."
"Yeah, my foot—" I start to say again, but he puts his finger up for me to stop. This time I think I hear footsteps on the soft wood, and I peek around the wall into the main entrance.
"The door's closed!" I hiss in Justin's direction.
"That must have been the noise I heard," he muses. "Probably just the wind." He straightens out of his crouch and raises his voice a little, but I turn back around, alert for any movement besides our own.
Suddenly, a high-pitched scream sounds behind me and I whirl around, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. A little boy stands there with a bewildered look upon his face, while Justin stares at him in complete terror. He quickly relaxes though, and laughs nervously.
"Was that you?" I ask, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.
"If you'd been in my position…" he says defensively, glaring at me.
I can't help but laugh. My stomach hurts by the time I'm done and I have to sit down. When I wipe the tears from my eyes, I realize that I recognize the boy who startled Justin.
"You were there when I came to visit Evelyn. Harold, right?"
"Henry," he says.
There's a moment of silence before I speak again. "We're looking for a Mr.…" I look up at Justin, searching for the name of our suspect.
"Landon Rogers?" someone says, although Justin's mouth doesn't move.
A tall man stands in the doorway, blocking out any light from the front windows and throwing us into darkness.
"Yes, are you him?" Justin asks nervously.
"Yes," he answers. "May I ask what you are doing in my home?" his voice is deep and slow, and he takes a step towards us.
Justin takes a step back in response, but trips over a coffee table and falls hard to the floor.
"We're, um," I swallow hard. "We were just wondering if we might ask you a few questions?"
"About?" He's definitely a man of few words.
"Something you heard from your sister." I leave out the part about Four's disappearance, because if he did betray Four, then he'll be less likely to talk if he knows our true reason for being here.
He grunts. I don't know if that means yes or no, but he takes a seat and stares at me expectantly.
"Oh, um," I look at Justin hastily who scrambles up and sits on the couch.
"Do you remember hearing about a group of people traveling to the fringe on a mission to pick up transfers?" Justin asks.
"No."
"Oh, well, do you remember your sister saying anything to you about the meeting she had a few weeks ago?"
"What makes you think I pay attention to anything that old hag says?"
I raise my eyebrows and exchange a glance with Justin. That was not something I expected to hear. Landon turns to Henry, who I'd almost forgotten, and says gruffly, "Don't repeat that to your mother."
Henry must be his nephew.
I'm not sure where to take the interview next so I ask, "Where did you come from in the fringe exactly?" He may not have heard what his sister said, or maybe he did, we'll never know, but it's worth a shot to know whether he's a potential threat or not.
He scratches his beard and frowns, glaring at us with his small black eyes. "The northern edge, two hours south of the Rift."
My heartbeat quickens. Not many people know of the Rift.
"And what was your occupation?" I ask.
"Why are you asking me all these questions?" he asks roughly. "Are you from the police force? I didn't do anything illegal!"
I squish myself far into the chair. I can't imagine what Landon did that makes him nervous so about the police, but I don't care to find out.
"No, no, we're not from the police," Justin says quickly. "We're just trying to find out more about our friend's disappearance."
We have nothing to lose telling the truth now.
"I think I've told you enough. How about you get out of my house."
The tone of his voice suggests a threat and I notice for the first time just how wide his knuckles are. He has the words 'Guns are for kittens' inscribed across his fingers, and I can't decide if it's amusing or mortally terrifying.
"Yes, that sounds wonderful. Thank you for your time. Peter?" Justin looks at me, then heads toward the door.
He doesn't have to tell me twice. I rise and begin to leave, then stop and turn, giving an awkward bow. The stony look on Landon's face freezes my stomach and I hurry after Justin. When we're safely out in the open, with plenty of witnesses, I take my first deep breath since we got here.
"I'm just glad he let us out at all. If he's our guy, then he could have easily murdered us right then and there."
"Who's to say that he's not? I'm more worried that he didn't hurt us."
"Tell that to my aching toe," I mutter.
"We don't know if he's planning some sort of revenge. He knows we're on to him, so now he's going to send out his assassins and we'll be taken from our beds in the middle of the night, never to be seen again!" Justin looks at me with a mischievous smile, and I shove his arm.
"Your stories aren't going to scare me," I say, but I'm uneasy. "C'mon, let's get away from this house."
He looks at me and smiles, pretending to be terrified, but I ignore him.
"Where to next?" I ask.
"Oh, you're no fun," he pouts, poking me in the shoulder.
I slap his hand away and roll my eyes.
"House 4E," he answers, pointing to a cluster of buildings on our right. "Are you sure you want to keep going?"
"It can only get better after that," I say, but still I'm nervous. Maybe we don't need to keep going. Landon was a fairly perfect fit, coming from the northern edge, and using the Rift as a landmark, but I have a feeling it wasn't him.
Building 4E is the last of the housing edition—beyond it is a wide field of rustling corn stalks. Bits of old furniture, chair legs and chestnut drawers, crabgrass pushing its way through the cracks in the rotting wood, lie in the lawn surrounding the house. It's more of a shack really, since the abandoned furnishings are nearly in better shape then the foundation. The entire building sinks into the ground, the baseboards caving beneath the weight. This establishment hasn't been here more then a year, so I can only assume there's some sort of infestation.
"This is the one?" I ask Justin.
"Yep…"
We pick our way across the littered walkway and I knock on the door. It creaks open, but I don't walk in, like last time. After a few seconds, a woman appears at the door, her hair pulled together in a loose bun and a bathrobe draped over her shoulders. She may have been pretty once, but now her eyes are dull and her shoulders sag under the weight of whatever burden she carries.
"What can I do for you?" she asks in a rough, tired voice.
"We'd like to ask you few questions concerning a story relayed at a the Corporation meeting a few weeks ago.
"If you're trying to sell me something, I don't want it," she grumbles, reaching to shut the door.
"Wait!" Justin says, shoving his foot between the doorframe and the door. "We're not trying to sell you anything; a friend of ours went missing and we're hoping to uncover any clues that'll lead us to him. All we need is for you to tell us what you remember about the city going to pick up fringe transfers. The story that Abraham Stellos told."
It's a risky move, mentioning Abraham, but the woman immediately perks up.
"Abe?" she whispers, opening the door a bit wider. She stares at something I can't see and a smile spreads across her face. "Yes, yes, come in!" she says, suddenly enthusiastic.
"Um, thank you," Justin says.
Her quick change of mood is unnerving, so we'll have to be on our guard lest her bitter coma overtakes her in the middle of teatime.
"Would you care for a biscuit? Some coffee perhaps, or cake? I have a lovely cake that's just come from the oven—lemon chocolate…" Her voice fades out as she flutters to the kitchen, her youthful energy magically restored.
I exchange glances with Justin. Why did the mention of Abraham turn her from a cactus to a daisy? His eyes reflect my confusion as she comes back in, a yellow cake with brown swirls balanced upon a platter in her hands.
"Ms. Foller…" Justin says tentatively. "What do you remember of the city sending representatives to the fringe for transfers?"
"Ah, yes, transfers. Ha! Such a nice opportunity don't you think? Like sunshine, oh! I must show you something. Come, come!" She scurries from the room and Justin sighs.
"I'm not sure we're going to get anything out of her."
"In here! Come and see!" a voice says from somewhere down the hall. As we travel farther into the house, the rooms become darker, but when I pull back the curtain leading to her voice, sunlight covers every inch from floor to ceiling. I blink away the white dots clouding my vision and focus on dozens of palettes and easels crowding the room. Each one has a face painted on it, all with the same features—a wide nose, chiseled jaw line, brown eyes and sandy brown hair.
"Why," I hiss to Justin under my breath, "are there thirty portraits of Abraham illuminated in a golden light?" But Justin says nothing, instead staring at the paintings in disbelief, his mouth hanging slightly open. Ms. Foller stands at the window of the room, which stretches six feet from the floor, clutching a picture to her chest.
"Peter, look," Justin whispers, pointing at the corner of a pastel version of Abraham. Inscribed there is a signature reading 'Emily Foller Stellos'.
"She was desperate lover," I say, finally understanding. "Or is."
"She's a loon, is what she is," says Justin. "She's got pictures of her ex-boyfriend hidden in a room in her house, like some secret shrine." He looks slightly disturbed.
"Aren't they beautiful?" Emily asks. "It's like he's still here."
She sighs, her eyes twinkling with memories. But her smile slowly fades and her short flame of reminiscence has burnt out, leaving her as cold as the candles in Landon's house. She turns, her bewildered eyes falling on us, hardening into the stony chips they were before.
"He doesn't love me, does he?" Neither of us says a word. Her face contorts from sad to angry and she suddenly screams, so loudly that I have to resist the urge to cover my ears. It's blood chilling, a mixture of bitter angst and emotional devastation. Her knees meet the floor, and the picture falls from her grasp. Sobs fill the room, and Justin and I slowly leave the room. I hate to leave her alone, surrounded by the source of her anguish, but her rollercoaster mood swings are too unpredictable to be safe. Besides, the only thing we were getting out of her was depressing he-loves-me-not stories.
The light is fading and my feet are sore from the day's adventures. Not a singe person made out to be suitable suspect, every name scribbled through disappointedly.
"It's so grim," I say.
"Of course it is, but we can't give up," says Justin reassuringly. He claps me on the shoulder and I smile half-heartedly. "Things have become dark and depressing. Success is a small chance, if any, and evil has found it's way into our lives, defeating us at the very center of what we thought we knew best. Each time we come close, the answer slips away yet again."
All I can do is stare at him.
"But you know what? We can't let that stop us. We can't let some snobby little tyrant from the North push us around. We will get to the bottom of it and we will uncover every secret and everybody's dogs' secrets, until we have Tobias back, and have rid ourselves of that halfwit snake forever. Okay?"
I shake my head. "Promise me you'll never become a counselor, okay?" I ask.
He laughs. "I can't make any promises, but I'll try my best."
We continue down the road, the setting sun highlighting the windows and transforming the city into a brilliant flame.
We will burn like the city in our search for Tobias, until the day when the dark consumes us and all hope has truly gone.