A/N: Thanks for all your reviews! Just a few things:

Connor and David will be playing a part in this mystery.

My chapters are in bold, and DMBfan's chapters will be in regular font.

Peachy? Good. Review, please :)

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Connor walked into Jake's room. "Hey," he replied.

"Hey," Jake said quietly. "I'm tired, and sick."

"Chicken pox, that's what your mom said," Connor said. "That sucks. I had them before."

Jake chuckled. "She won't let the other kids near me – she swears I'm contagious."

Connor smiled. He looked at his watch. "What's your plan for today?"

"Lay in bed," Jake replied. "Oh, man, Connor. Oh, man."

"What?"

"I thought I saw something last night in Seth's office," Jake said, unsure if he should tell Connor. Finally deciding to go with it, he said, "I thought I saw him… him… k-kill someone."

"Wow!" Connor said, his eyes lighting up like a kid when he tasted his first ice-cream cone. "Kill someone?"

"This isn't a joke, Connor. I think I really did see him kill someone."

"Oh, wow, you mean like somebody died?" Connor said, not sure what to think.

"Yeah."

"Hey, my dad's a cop," Connor said, "Do you want to tell him?"

"Heck no, the whole case would be circumstantial. I watch TV shows too, I'm not stupid."

Connor paused. "So what do we do?"

"I don't know," Jake replied, truthfully. He was so tired, he felt like pulling his hair out in frustration.

"I know what we can do!" Connor said with a smile. "It's so dumb, I wonder why I didn't think of it sooner!"

"What?" Jake said, excitedly.

"Why don't we investigate?" Connor said.

"Dude, I'm sick with the chickenpox, incase you haven't forgotten. There's no way I'm going to be let alone outside."

"So why can't I?"

"No way," Jake said, "no way. Your mom would kill me."

"She doesn't have to know."

"She'd find out in court," Jake challenged. "Besides, what if Seth saw you? He would kill you!"

Connor shook his head. "I'll come up with something. We could play this by ear, you know? I'm sure you have the walkie talkies that I gave you for Christmas."

"Yeah," Jake replied.

"Your mom'll let you keep the window open?" Connor asked.

"Yeah, probably," Jake said, changing into some jeans and a comfortable Yankees T-Shirt. "Okay, so what's the plan?"

"What are we looking of evidence for? A murder, right?" Connor said, grabbing a few pages from a notebook he carried around with him.

"Yeah, why?" Jake asked.

"Okay, then. Here's the plan. I want you to spy on me well I search his garbage."

"His garbage?" Jake asked, crinkling his nose.

"Yeah, dude. All bad guys hide stuff in their garbage, thinking that they're going to get away with it. That's what my dad says half the time when he cracks a case."

"47.7 of statistics are made up," Jake grumbled, looking out the window. "Pass the Tylenol, will you? I have one heck of a headache."

"Yeah. You're going to need to be clear to watch me," Connor said. "I'm also going to look for any signs of a murder. Or whatever it is that took place," he said, not putting any stress on any words. He didn't want to get himself into trouble. But he also… no, he wouldn't have, Connor thought.

"Connor, be careful. If you get hurt, your mom'll have my head."

"I know, Jake. I'll be careful," Connor replied. "Watch from the window, will you?"

"Yeah. I hope Seth doesn't think that we suspect him. Hey, Connor, get something and throw it out there, so in case he does catch you, you can say you accidentally tossed it into his yard and was looking for it, okay?"

"Sure," Connor said, eagerly tossing an unused book out the window before climbing down on Jake's rope ladder he'd made to practice climbing.

"Great," Jake muttered to himself when he saw Connor. He was patrolling around the trashcan, looking for anything that looked out of place. His dad was a police officer; Jake reasoned. He knew a lot better then Jake did what to search for, and what not.

For someone being ten, he was an awesome kid. He was honest, even to the point of being brutally honest. It had gotten him in trouble more then once, but Jake still managed to get into trouble more then he did.

That being said, it didn't excuse either of their actions. The week school went out, Jake had almost been in trouble on the last day.

"Red one to red two, all signs clear?" Connor came through loud and clear in the walkie-talkie.

"Red two to red one: Nothing suspicious to report. No cars in either driveway."

"Okay, red two. Will search the trashcans," Connor replied. "I think that's probably our best bet, like I said. I'm being careful. So far, no sign of any Setheroosie," he said, daring to joke. He wanted to turn this whole thing into a joke.

After all, there was no way Seth could've killed anyone.

Right?

"Be careful out there, red one." Jake shook his head. He knew the code instantly, because red was Connor's favorite color.

Connor took his time rummaging through the trash. "Red one to red two," he said, radioing in to Jake, feeling something sharp in the trash. He reached to pick it up and examined it, unsure what he was seeing, but intrigued anyway. He turned his focus back to the walkie-talkie.

"What is it, red one?" Jake asked. He ran his hand through his hair and wish he'd kept quiet about what he saw. He was tired and he wanted a nap, even after taking the painkiller. It had done nothing for him but stop some of his cageyness, which he was sure would come back later.

"I found something. I'm not sure what it was – is." Connor's breath caught and he yelped slightly.

Jake cursed mentally before climbing to the window and getting a better look at it. "Red two, it's a… looks like a knife. Long and sharp. How could you have not noticed that?"

"A knife? What does that mean?" Jake pondered, out loud. Could it mean he really had seen the murder? But bad guys weren't stupid enough to dispose of their weapons in the trash, were they? You know, like if they were on tv or something, they would always hide it in the most opportune place, not someplace where detectives or other people would find it.

"Nothing good. Hide it, red two. Suspect is coming in the driveway, I repeat, suspect is coming in the driveway."

Connor's walkie-talkie went silent. Shoving the knife back into the trash, he quickly sneaked back to his side of the house and pretended to be searching Seth's yard for something.

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"Going somewhere?" Seth barked to Connor. He didn't notice the slight bit of blood on the boy's hands from the knife cut, and that probably saved his life.

"Sorry, sir. I just lost something out of Jake's window – we were playing a game, you know – and it was a book. A very important book. To him." Connor stopped there, realizing he'd probably said too much already. Feeling sick to his stomach, he looked up at the man.

He had always been very friendly in the neighborhood. How was Jake so sure he was a killer? And if he was a killer, what did that mean for the rest of them? Did that mean he was in danger right now? Even if he wasn't, he sure was shaking. He pressed his knees closer together, hoping to God that Seth didn't see them shaking.

"Would this be it?" Seth asked, almost mockingly gently. His smirk portrayed his actions, a million times louder then his words. It was obvious that he didn't believe the boy.

"Yes," Connor said, pretending to be exited. "Oh, thank you! Sweet. I'll be back later," he said, climbing back up Jake's ladder.

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That night, as Jake pulled up his ladder, as he had started to do that summer so nobody could climb into his bedroom, he saw that there was a note attached to it.

Stay out of my trash. Know what pain feels like? – Seth