As Max was staying with Rachel for the weekend, after the after-party was done, Chloe drove them both to the Amber residence. Despite Rachel's best efforts to get her to stay for the night, Chloe refused and headed home. The sky was turning a deep blue and the east had taken a pink shade by the time she turned into Cedar Drive and parked her truck in the garage. She had just enough energy to drag herself up to her room, pull off her boots, and flop face-first into bed and merciful sleep.

The next thing she knew, someone was banging their fist against her door. Groaning, she forced her eyes open. Then David's familiar bark pushed her fully awake.

"Chloe, wake the hell up!" The door rattled again. "I know you're in there!"

What the actual fuck? A look out the window told her it was some time in the afternoon. Knuckling the sleep from her eyes, Chloe sat up in bed. "The hell do you want? It's Sunday, I'm trying to get some s—"

The door swung open as David forced his way in. A scowl was gouged into his brow and his mustache twitched with his breathing.

"You can't just barge in here!" Chloe screeched.

"Shut up and tell me where it is."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

But David was gazing around the room like a bloodhound tracking a scent. "Where'd you put it? In your closet?" He marched over there and threw the doors open. Junk spilled out onto the floor.

Chloe was instantly on her feet. "Get the fuck out of my room, asshole! You don't go through my shit!"

"You have no goddamn idea how much trouble you've got us into, Chloe."

"You are seriously pissing me off, man!"

"Tell me where it is or so help me—"

"What? Where is WHAT?"

He whirled to face her. "THE LAPTOP, CHLOE! WHERE'S THE LAPTOP YOU STOLE LAST NIGHT?"

For an instant, Chloe's brain short-circuited; all she could do was stare at him. How the fuck did he know?

She needed to delay him, get some space to think of a way out. She pulled her shoulders back, mustered all the defiance she'd honed these past three years since David moved in. But all she could manage was a lame: "I didn't steal your fucking laptop."

"Don't even dare lie to me, Chloe." David shook his finger at her. "You don't think I know? You think I didn't see you when you slipped out of that office window?"

Fuck. "I was never—I don't even know where you work, dipshit! You think every criminal in town looks like me now? You're tripping balls!"

His eyes narrowed. "Am I?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a scrap of cloth. "Found this piece of denim stuck to one of the rebars of the foundation. The thief jumped in there to hide and managed to knock their leg pretty hard. Hard enough to rip up their jeans."

Before Chloe could react, he bent down and lifted her right pant leg, exposing a large tear in the jeans and an ugly purple bruise on her shin. Heat flushed Chloe's cheeks; she pulled her leg back but it was too late. David straightened up, a look of smug satisfaction on his face.

"It was you," he concluded. "And you weren't alone. I found three sets of footprints by the fence. One of them matches your boot prints—I know, I checked. I know everything, Chloe. The only thing I want to hear from you is where you hid the damn laptop!"

Chloe blurted out the only thing that came to mind. "I was at a party last night! The whole time! I've got friends who'll swear—"

"Like I care about a stinking word your so-called friends have to say. You got people who'll lie for you—fine. But I'll tell you this." He inched toward her till he was staring her down. "You don't show me that laptop right goddamn now, I'm taking away your truck. You're already confined to quarters. And I'll investigate every one of your friends, starting with the one you keep bringing here: Max."

She stood there dumbfounded as David next turned to her desk and started rifling through the drawers. She struggled to come up with something—anything—to throw him off or get him to leave. But the only thing that sunk in like a bullet to her brain was the mention of Max. Him uttering her name sounded worse than a profanity.

You're not touching her, she thought furiously. Lay one finger on her and you're dead, shitdick.

A voice spoke in her ear—Rachel's. 'You can't lie your way out of this one—you know you're not terribly good at it anyway. If you can't win, figure out how to not lose.'

Chloe blinked. She's right. I have to go on the attack.

Chloe drew herself to her full height. When David turned back to her, Chloe cracked a smile and said, "So what's it like working for a criminal?"

David's scowl deepened. "What—"

"You heard me. Prescott set up that construction site you're playing rent-a-cop for. Or didn't you know?"

"I'll have you know that I was hired by Pastoral State, not by Mr. Prescott. "

"And it never occurred to you that it could be a shell company owned by that shitbird?" This was a gamble; Chloe didn't know for sure, but it seemed like a solid theory given what she'd seen.

David threw up his hands. "Why would it? What does it matter? What does this have to do with—"

"Because, idiot, Prescott's battling a court case for that land he's building on. Native Americans even got a restraining order against him so he can't so much as put up a port-a-potty there. In other words, you've been helping the richest man in Arcadia Bay get around the law."

David bared his teeth. "You're lying. You got no proof."

Chloe barked her laughter. "I don't have to lie. It's all there on the Oregon Judicial Department website if you don't believe me. Prescott's the only one who ever showed any interest in that forest, no one else. Face it, Columbo, you're a collaborator." She grinned sharply. "Wonder what Mom would think if she knew you were helping some rich dude commit a crime."

David had turned tomato red. His mouth opened and shut like a landed fish. The sight filled Chloe with savage glee. If there was one thing he feared more than anything, it was losing his wife's respect.

He jabbed his finger downward like he was pushing a self-destruct button. "This doesn't change anything! You and your friends committed a felony! You're going to turn over that laptop—"

"So what—so that Prescott can keep doing what he's doing?" She snorted. "You're gonna turn a blind eye? Yeah, that sounds about right! You come down hard on a student for littering or parking illegally, but roll over when it's some rich asshole holding your paycheck! You really are a cop wannabe!"

"What do you even care?! You're telling me you're playing Hardy Boys to investigate Prescott? Am I supposed to believe you're doing this out of a sense of justice? That you didn't steal the laptop so you can fund your little weed problem?"

Chloe hesitated. As much as she hated it, he had her there—she wouldn't have any motivation at all to do this if it hadn't been for Max's time travel story. What could she tell him? Max had said that David could be trusted, that he'd helped her escape the Dark Room in the other timeline. So...

She grit her teeth. This was one too many gambles. But she needed David off their backs so that they could keep working.

Chloe stood up straighter. "That's exactly right, I AM investigating Prescott." Ignoring his sneer, she went on. "He's got an accomplice in Blackwell Academy, hurt someone I know. A friend—"

"You don't have any friends."

"Fuck you. He drugged my friend and dragged her off somewhere. I'm not letting him do it again. I know he's working with Prescott—I've seen him at your construction site. I also know his lackey's connected somehow with illegal drugs getting into the school." She glared back through narrowed eyes. "I wanna take him down and Prescott with him. That's why I'm doing this!"

David gaped at her. "Would you listen to yourself? Every word coming out of your mouth sounds insane! You don't have a shred of evidence to prove any of it!"

"What, and you do? How long've you been dicking around Blackwell trying to find out how the drugs have been coming in? Why do you keep ending up with jack shit? Someone's running circles 'round you and you have no idea who, 'cause you still haven't figured out he's got Prescott on his side!"

"That isn't something for you to stick your damn nose in, Chloe! Leave it to the police!"

"HE FUCKIN' OWNS THE POLICE, DICKHEAD!"

"DON'T YOU DARE RAISE YOUR V—"

The noise of the front door opening cut off their argument. Joyce's voice floated up from the first floor. "David? Chloe? What's going on up there?"

Fighting to control her breath, Chloe stared hard at David. He'd paled, his hands opening and closing as he stared right back. Was he going to do it? Tell her mom? Would this end in mutually assured destruction?

Footsteps coming up the stairs as they continued to glare at each other. The door swung open.

"What are you two doing?" Joyce demanded, eyeing them both. "What's the shouting all about?"

"Nothing," Chloe replied.

"Nothing?" Her mother arched her brow before turning to David. "Well?"

"We were..." He paused, his gaze switching from one to the other. "We were, uh..."

"He was telling me to clean my room," Chloe finished for him. "He said it looks like a pigsty, and I disagreed."

Joyce glanced at David, and to Chloe's shock, David nodded. "She needs to tidy up a little."

"Well, understatement of the year," Joyce said, planting hands on her hips. "But I hardly think that's reason enough to let the whole neighborhood know about it. And what's this I heard about the police?"

Again, David stared at her blankly. Chloe jumped in, "He's been looking for his CD of The Police. Like, the band. I don't listen to that shit, so I don't have it."

Joyce gave David an odd look. "You have a CD of The Police?"

Again, David surprised Chloe by nodding. "It was a gift from an army friend. I thought she might have taken it."

"Well then," Joyce said, shaking her head. "I'll be very grateful if you two settled the problem without resorting to raised voices. David, if Chloe says she doesn't have your CD, I really don't think she has it."

David nodded again.

"And Chloe, you do need to clean up. It ain't a pig pen yet but you can see it getting there without a telescope. Think you can handle that?"

"Sure, Mom, whatever."

Joyce looked suspicious at her agreeableness, but then turned to David again. "So I might need some help putting some dry goods I bought in the garage. Would you mind?"

"Alright. Let me finish up here."

Again that look of suspicion, but Joyce shrugged and headed for the door. "No more shoutin'," she said over her shoulder. "Solve it like a couple of adults." Then she disappeared down the stairs.

Chloe and David looked at each other again, neither sure how to go from here.

"I still need that laptop," he said, straining to rein in his voice.

"Oh, really?" Chloe hissed back. "What's your brilliant plan? Gonna tell your boss you found it in a dumpster somewhere? Think Prescott won't send some goons to sniff you out? You're gonna get yourself fired and get me thrown in jail."

His mustache twitched again. "I'll figure it out. Whatever it is you're trying to do, it's got to stop."

"Now I know you're fucking cuckoo for cocoa puffs. I'm not stopping now that I've made it this far."

"You are making a mess, Chloe, and you have no idea what I had to do to keep you out of it!"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

He sighed and scrubbed at his forehead. "I took this piece of cloth from the site and I erased your footprints before anyone else could find them. That already marks me as an accomplice."

That took Chloe by surprise. David actually helped throw Prescott off their scent? There was nothing linking her to the theft? Was Max actually right about him, or was this some kind of mind game?

"If I can get the laptop," he went on, "there's a chance we can make it seem like a simple burglary, nothing more. But you need to stop there, Chloe. Just stop. Even if what you say is true, then you're dealing with dangerous men. Leave the investigating to me. I'll look into it if there's anything to look into."

Fuck, no. He wouldn't get through half the shit they need done. She needed him off her back, fast. Dammit, Rachel's so much better at this. How would she handle it?

Then the answer came to her in a flash of insight.

"Alright, listen," said Chloe. "I'll make you a deal. Let me have that laptop for two weeks. I need whatever data's on it."

"No deal."

"Let me have this and I won't just give the laptop back, I'll get you what you always wanted. I can give you the source of every drug in Arcadia Bay. The guy supplying Blackwell and Prescott's accomplice there."

David went silent; Chloe could hear the gears grinding in his head.

"Gimme his name," he said.

She folded her arms. "Not telling you that, buddy."

"Who's Prescott's accomplice?"

"Not telling you that either till I get proof. You might tip him off accidentally."

"Then how do I know you're not making all of this up?"

Chloe paused, thinking hard. "I can get you proof. I can give you the dealer's logbook of clients. A full list. It'll prove his connection to Blackwell and Prescott's lackey. You take them all down and get the credit. Maybe the cops will hire you—I don't give a shit. All I'm asking for is time so I can keep digging." She looked him dead in the eye. "Or you can make trouble for me and for everyone I know and you get nothing, not even your fucking laptop. So what do you say?"

David lowered his head, lips pursing and the muscles on his jaw working. It was the longest moment between them that Chloe ever had to endure.

Finally, he looked up and said, "Two weeks. You find what you need, you give me what you find. Then we'll see just what your info's worth. And if you don't deliver, Chloe, you'll regret ever stepping foot on that construction site."

"And then what happened?" Max pressed her.

All three of them were bundled together in Chloe's truck, on their way to Portland to catch Max's bus trip home to Seattle. The sun descending in the west had turned the ocean into a carpet of red and gold, and the breeze coming down from the mountains announced the close of day.

"He walked out," Chloe replied as she shifted into high gear. "And he didn't confiscate my car keys, thank fuck, or we wouldn't be out here right now."

"Maybe he believes you, Chloe. Even only a little."

"Yeah, yeah, I know my step-douche helped you back in your timeline. But he's no team player and he could easily ruin everything in this one."

Rachel spoke up from her spot by the window. "Not if we hustle. We just have to get everything we need before his deadline." She began ticking off on her fingers. "Publish the Jefferson article, crack the laptop, and get any useful info on Prescott."

"Yeah, and we could get there faster," Chloe said. "All I need is proof that Nathan's getting his supply of drugs from Frank Bowers. If we can get Nathan and Frank arrested, that will likely take Jefferson down too. As a bonus, I get rid of Frank—so that wipes away my debt! I just need to get my hands on his client logbook and—"

"No! " Rachel and Max said together.

Chloe eyed them, surprised by their vehemence. "What do you mean, 'no'?"

Neither said anything for a brief moment. Max fidgeted in her seat. Rachel's hazel eyes lay calmly on Chloe, but her grip tightened around the window frame.

"Chloe," she said, "I don't think it's a good idea to mess with Frank."

"Are we talking about the same guy here? He's all bark, dude. Plus I've proven I can sneak in and out of a guarded compound unnoticed. His trailer's not gonna be a problem."

"Rachel's right—it's a terrible idea," Max chimed in. She and Rachel exchanged a quick glance. "In my timeline, Frank was pretty pissed at you because you owed him so much money. If he catches you, it's not gonna end well."

"He won't catch me. Not with you guys in my corner."

"Chloe..."

"Maybe we won't need to steal his logbook," Rachel cut in. "It'll be easier if we can convince him somehow to give Nathan up. I don't know—let me try and talk to him."

Chloe shook her head. These two were acting really weird. "I doubt he's gonna help you out of the goodness of his heart, Rach."

The blonde switched her gaze to the window and the scenery rushing past. "I'll think of something. Don't worry about it."

"Fine. I bow to your superior wisdom." Frowning, Chloe turned her attention back to the road ahead. She had no doubt Rachel could pull off that particular hat trick if she so wanted. Still, Chloe couldn't shake a thread of unease. Like she'd missed something important.

Probably imagining things, she decided, and pushed her truck faster down the freeway.