THE HOWLER OFFICES WERE humming when I arrived after school. I felt like I was visibly drooping, Shaggy’s emotions still weighing me down. It was heavy, thinking about what Shaggy was going through, and knowing what I knew of his dad made me all the more worried for him. By the time I sat down at my desk, I was more determined than ever to help my friend.

Because that’s what Shaggy was, I reminded myself, despite those few strange seconds we’d experienced at lunch that day: a friend. And when I saw Ram approaching our cube, I was reminded of that even more.

He grinned widely when he saw me and, poof, all thoughts of Shaggy fell away. Well, kind of. Those weird thoughts, anyway.

“I need your help,” I said before Ram even sat down. My stomach tingled.

“Sounds serious, Blake.”

“Super.” I surveyed the two conference rooms that sat at either end of our floor. Both were filled with people.

“Maybe now’s a good time to grab that coffee?” Ram suggested, and I nodded even as my heart sank. An afternoon coffee break wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind for our first date, but it would have to do. And besides, I still wasn’t sure if it even was a date.

We took the elevator to the cafeteria on the top floor of the building. The coffee was free for all building employees, so I didn’t even have to worry about who would pay for it (hey, I’ll take the wins where I can get them these days) and we quickly poured our own cups and settled into a quiet section of the caf, overlooking the parking lot in the back. Romantic.

“You know I got that headline changed, right?” Ram said.

It took me a beat to recall what he meant. The headline about all signs pointing to the Vanished returning felt like months ago; years ago. I’d barely noticed the change, and besides, once we discovered the Crystal was the real story, Milton had pivoted quickly. Today’s headline was slightly calmer but no less compelling: Duped! Town Discovers Infamous, Historic Crystal Is Missing as Reports Confirm the Washed-Up Jewels Are a Diversion.

“Right,” I said hurriedly. Then, remembering my end goal—and my assets—I flashed him my best smile. “Actually, that’s kind of what I wanted to check in with you about.”

“My headline?”

“Close. More like … your ace sleuthing skills.” (And your ace Milford skills, I wanted to add.) I took a steaming sip while maintaining eye contact. I hoped I looked alluring, but it’s possible I just looked dumb. “Obviously, the police are now focusing on finding the Crystal.”

“The police and the rest of this legend-obsessed town, yeah.” Ram leaned back in his seat and rested his feet on the empty chair between us. “Did you see the latest police log? Someone said they saw a giant crystal hovering over the beach around midnight.”

“That sounds about right,” I said. I’d already seen a couple of new rumors on my social media feeds overnight, too. Sammie Daniels had texted our group to say she and her family were so scared, they were planning on getting out of town as, according to her, “ghosts were not on the Daniels family agenda.” “Milford must be all over this story, too, right?”

“He’s the most single-minded man I’ve ever met.” Ram shook his head. “I’ve been here since my morning classes ended, and it’s the only thing he’s talked about. Well, that and whether our latest video about the Vanished has gone viral or not.”

“Web traffic must be high, huh?”

“Through the roof, according to my buddies in the digital department. Every article about the jewels, whether it’s focused on the Vanished or ghosts or whatever, has smashed our previous records. This is the kind of stuff Milford lives for.”

I took another sip while I pondered that. Milford was definitely on my list of suspects—top of it, actually, with his name on the first line in my notebook—but I remembered that Velma had thought he might be involved in Marcy’s disappearance in our previous case, and instead he’d come through for us when we needed help. After that experience, I wasn’t convinced he’d steal the Crystal just for a good story. Especially now that I had confirmation the articles about the washed-up jewels were performing so well. Milford had no motive, as far as I could tell.

Except for the fact that he seemed to hate Mr. Rogers, of course. I wished Velma and I had asked Shaggy about their backstory this morning. I made a mental note to mention it the next time I saw Shaggy.

In the meantime, I hurriedly steered the conversation to where I needed it to go. “What do you know about the Rogers family?”

“Other than they run every business in town?” Ram shrugged. Today he wore a green-and-white striped sweater that nicely complemented his orange sneakers. “I’ve seen your friend around town a bit. He and his dog are hard to miss.”

“Yeah, the Rogerses are Crystal Cove royalty,” I confirmed. “And a Rogers was the only surviving settler, after the Vanishing. But what do you know about Mr. Rogers, specifically?”

Ram shrugged again. He was losing interest, I could tell. I straightened my posture, recrossed my legs, and licked my lips. Focus, Blake. “I hope you don’t mind, but I googled you.”

Ram’s head jerked up. I felt a snake of satisfaction curl up my stomach.

“I noticed your last internship was at the San Francisco Financial Journal, is that right?”

“That’s right.” Ram smiled, like he was glad I’d looked into him. “Mostly financial reporting, with occasional forays into some juicy Wall Street stuff. Why?”

I maintained Ram’s gaze for a few moments without saying anything. It was a little trick I’d learned a long time ago—keeping silent, a hint of a smile on your lips, made people think you knew more than you actually did.

He leaned forward, nearly knocking over his cup. “I know that look, Blake.”

I let my smile widen a bit more, just enough so that he knew I knew.

“That’s the look of a reporter with a hunch.”

My grin burst open at that, and the best part was, it was genuine. Ram didn’t think of me as some little high school intern. I was a reporter. We were reporters.

“Not a hunch, exactly,” I clarified. “More like the potential for a hunch. And I think you’re just the guy to handle it.”

Ram’s eyes bored into mine, warm and inviting. “I’m listening.”

For a moment, the background noise of the cafeteria faded away. I hesitated. My brain knew I was sitting in the Howler offices in Crystal Cove, but I had the distinct impression I was standing on a cliff, and I had to make a decision about whether to jump off and fly … or back up and walk away.

For the first time I could remember, I wanted to jump. I just felt like, finally, someone would actually catch me.

When I called Velma that night, her voice crackled through the phone—a bad connection, which meant she was in the Dinkleys’ new-old house. That whole area had been a dead zone for cell service my entire life.

“So what’s the latest on the reporting front?” she asked.

“Well, for starters, the police didn’t find anything on the Rogerses’ security cameras,” I filled her in as I sat at my desk and clicked around the internet. One of Milford’s top reporters had finally met with the police to get the latest status of the investigation, so I was brimming with updates.

“Which we expected.”

“But still, a bummer,” I continued. “All the house staff have been interviewed, but so far, no one seems to have any motive, and they all have alibis. The locks on all the doors were working normally, none of the windows were broken or anything like that, and other than the Crystal, not a speck was out of place.”

“What about fingerprints?”

“They’ve dusted,” I confirmed. For a moment I lost my train of thought—somehow, I’d ended up on Hartwood University’s website, where a massive photo of Ram’s face stared back at me from their home page, those dark eyes smiling. (Clearly, Hartwood’s marketing department had also noticed how, er, attractive Ram’s appearance would be to prospective students.) “But so far nothing’s really turned up. The cleaners dust the whole house every week, except for Mr. Rogers’s study. If the thief touched anything in there, they must’ve worn gloves.”

“Still,” Velma wondered. “I can’t believe there’s nothing unusual.”

“We really only have one angle to go on here.”

I could practically hear Velma nodding. “Shaggy’s not going to like that.”

I felt myself deflate a little—I didn’t want to hurt Shaggy. But, I reminded myself, the best way—the only way—to help him was to solve the case. Once the Crystal was found, Shaggy and his dad could sort out whatever family issues they had. And then I remembered: I had a plan. And I was staring right at him. I mean, it.

“Here’s the problem,” I said, sending a wish up into the universe that Velma would hear me out as I closed my laptop. “There’s no way the Rogers family is going to let us anywhere near their financials.”

“We’ll have to keep it on the sly. If the wrong people start to catch on to our investigation …”

“Exactly,” I said. I plopped onto my bed and stared at the ceiling. “But …”

“Daphne …” Velma warned through the crackles of the phone.

“Well, what if I know someone who really gets this stuff? Who, I don’t know, maybe worked as a financial reporter?”

“We are absolutely not partnering with Ram on this case.” Velma’s voice was flat. I decided to pretend it was just a bad connection.

“How did you know I was talking about Ram?!”

“You’re pretty much always talking about Ram.”

Well, that stung. And it was so not true. I forged ahead, spilling my plan in one breath. “Velma-hear-me-out. He’s-a-skilled-reporter-and-specializes-in-financial-reporting. Since-no-one-in-Crystal-Cove-really-knows-him-he-can-be-more-inconspicious-than-either-of-us-can. And-with-his-university-credentials-he-has-access-to-way-more-resources-than-we-do!”

Silence. As I caught my breath, I absentmindedly wandered over to my closet, flipping through the hangers until I found the dress I was looking for. It was a trendy cut, but it was a deep forest green, not a color I normally wore. My mom had bought it for me on one of her many travels, back before we’d really been on speaking terms and she used to try to purchase my love. But Ram’s green-and-white sweater had reminded me of it. I fingered the soft fabric, the belt that cinched in the waist. He was such a sharp dresser; I thought maybe it was time I upped my game.

“You there?” I said when I couldn’t take the silence any longer.

She sighed. And, if you asked me, surrendered. “I’m here.”

“So are you good with this plan? Because … well … I kind of already asked him to partner with us. And, well …”

“Oh, jeepers, what now?” Velma sputtered. I heard a crash, and then Velma shouted, “Ow!”

“You okay?”

“I just tripped.”

“What are you doing, anyway?”

Another bump, and then Velma’s muffled voice said, “Cleaning. My parents moved a bunch of boxes into the house, so I thought I’d get started on the kitchen.”

I wrinkled my nose, remembering the state of the Dinkleys’ new-old kitchen. “Do you want me to come over?”

“Honestly? Yes. But don’t. It’s getting late, and I’m leaving soon anyway.”

“Okay. But just say the word, and I will.”

“I know you will. That’s the only reason I’m not mad about you already asking Ram to help us out.”

“Um … about that.” I chewed on my lip while Velma’s huff came through the phone.

“Okay, seriously, Daph? I can’t take any more. Spill it. All of it.”

“The thing is … Ram already found some stuff. And it’s big.”

Silence. And then, Velma’s voice, clear as day. “Come over. Now. And bring Ram with you. And maybe Shaggy, too.” And then, wearily: “I’ll call for pizza.”

“You sure this is the right place?”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

Ram blinked in the darkness as we trudged up the back hill to the Dinkley house. By the time I’d gathered him and called Shaggy and persuaded him to meet us at Velma’s—with promises of a great story (for Ram) and lots of food (for Shaggy)—darkness had fully fallen. The Dinkley house, with its peeling paint and old, sloping roof, looked like a movie set. An abandoned, haunted movie set. A shiver ran down my spine—from the cool wind whipping over the Dinkley lot or from the presence of Ram, I wasn’t sure.

When we knocked on the back door, Shaggy opened it, Scooby right on his heels. His face fell when he saw us. “Aw, man, I thought you’d be pizza.”

Velma’s face popped up behind Shaggy’s shoulder. I started, suddenly remembering she was wearing contacts. Would I ever think of Velma without her glasses? “Come in, guys. Shaggy, pizza’s coming, I promise.”

She ushered us inside and, just as we all got settled at the kitchen table—I noticed someone had wiped it, so most of the dust was gone at least—the front doorbell rang and Shaggy raced to answer it. I seized my opportunity.

“Velma, Shaggy’s probably not going to like what Ram found,” I whispered urgently, eyes darting to the swinging kitchen door. “So let’s be gentle with him, okay?”

“Why do you think I wouldn’t be gentle with him?” she asked, frowning.

“I’m just saying,” I pressed. “You have a tendency to be a little …”

Velma narrowed her eyes at me. I smiled and shrugged in response. “Blunt. And we love you for it.”

“Who do we love, and why?” Shaggy asked. He’d reappeared at the kitchen door, carrying two large pies—one for him, one for the rest of us—and I swear, I’ve never seen him so happy. No wonder Shaggy never had romantic relationships, I mused as he carefully placed the boxes on the table and opened one up, steam clouding the room. No person could ever compare to the love he had for food. Or his dog, I realized, watching him lovingly cut half a slice for Scooby.

I made introductions and small talk while we ate and then, just when Shaggy had stuffed half a piece into his mouth, I did what we’d come here for.

“So, Shaggy, we have some news.”

He paused mid-chew, his eyes darting between me and Velma, who dove in. “Ram works at the Howler with Daphne, but he’s actually done financial reporting before, at an internship he did last summer break. So he has some experience digging into companies’ public records and uncovering the secrets they’re trying to hide.”

Shaggy swallowed. “Like, okay. Cool, I guess.”

As gingerly as I could, I broke the news. “And he’s uncovered some stuff about Rogers Enterprises that we think you should hear from us first, before it’s public.”

Shaggy kept looking back and forth between me and Velma, almost like he was deliberately pretending Ram wasn’t in the room. The air was charged with a nervous energy. And yet there was something behind Shaggy’s eyes that told me maybe he wasn’t going to be as surprised by the news as we’d feared.

“First, you should know the Crystal is valued at an impressively high price,” Ram said, dropping his slice on his plate and opening the reporter’s notebook he’d pulled out of his jacket pocket. He flipped a page. “Your dad had the Crystal reassessed about three months ago, and according to what I could find, its value has skyrocketed over the past few years. And your dad renewed the insurance policy just last month.”

He held up his notebook and showed Shaggy the numbers he’d jotted down. Shaggy’s eyes nearly bugged out. So did Velma’s, and I knew right away what she must be thinking: Was this a classic case of insurance fraud, where someone gets a premium policy on an expensive item only to report it stolen later so they can cash in?

“So with that background knowledge, here’s what’s important.” Ram flipped to another page. “Rogers Enterprises is a massive business, with full ownership of about a half dozen companies and holdings in lots of others. Your dad has a hand in all sorts of industries—clothing and beverage, insurance and textiles, a real mix of stuff. Which is smart. But based on my research, there are some inconsistencies in the reported earnings for Rogers Enterprises and its actual wealth.”

Shaggy closed the lid to the near-empty pizza box. He sighed uncharacteristically. “Like, inconsistencies?”

Ram nodded. “Over the past year, at least according to the documents I’ve found, most of the Rogers-branded companies have become insolvent.”

Shaggy blinked.

“Tell them what that means, exactly,” I murmured to Ram. I wanted him to say the words out loud, mostly because he’d been the one to discover it … and partly because I thought it would hurt Shaggy too much if I delivered them.

“May I be direct?” Ram’s voice was kind, soft. Shaggy paused, and then nodded. “This means that, on paper, Rogers Enterprises is … well, in the red. Underwater. Broke, basically.”

Shaggy stared at the floor. He had one long leg crossed over so that his ankle was resting on his knee, and it shook like a machine, knocking into the table with a consistent beat. Even Scooby, sensing the tension in the room, cocked his head and stared at Ram. I concentrated on the table, on the drips of sauce Shaggy had spilled.

“Do you think …” Shaggy said, breaking the awkward silence. “I mean, like, is my dad … ?”

“We don’t know if this is related at all to the Crystal, or to the jewels,” I rushed to clarify. I reached out my hand to grab Shaggy’s, but something stopped me, and I awkwardly retreated. I cleared my throat. “It just means there’s a motive, maybe.”

“Or, at the very least, it means your dad is probably a lot more stressed than any of us realized,” Velma added.

“If the police are doing their job right, this information will come to light eventually,” Ram explained. “And then … it’ll be chaos for your family. I’m really sorry, man.”

“Like, yikes,” Shaggy said. His sandy hair seemed to have grown another inch since I’d last seen him at school that day and he brushed it out of his eyes, which were wide and round and wet. “I knew something was up …”

We waited for a minute to see if he would finish the thought, but when he didn’t, Velma jumped in. “Like what?” she asked.

Shaggy cast his eyes up at the ceiling, and then down at the floor, and then uncrossed his legs. The table stopped shaking. Finally, he said, “Jack’s visit. It was unexpected. And it sent up a red flag for me.”

“You think Jack has something to do with this?” Velma prompted, leaning forward.

“I don’t think he’s directly involved. Like, no way.” Shaggy looked aghast. “He’d tell me. For sure he’d tell me. But … I wouldn’t put it past my dad to use Jack somehow. Like, without Jack knowing.”

We were all silent then, listening to the wind whip around the corners of the back porch, whistling in through the small window over the sink that Velma must have opened.

“Listen.” Shaggy suddenly straightened up, meeting our eyes directly. “This, like, stays between us, right?”

“Of course,” I said.

“Definitely,” Velma added. I looked at Ram, waiting for his confirmation, but he was busy jotting something in his notebook.

While the silence settled, I tried to recount the possibilities behind what Ram had discovered. Was it possible that Mr. Rogers was in such dire financial straits that he would sell off his beloved Crystal Cove Crystal to the highest bidder and then set it up to look like a robbery so he could ultimately cash a sweet check and save his businesses? But would he really do that? The Crystal Cove Crystal was iconic. Meaningful. Irreplaceable. Especially to the Rogers family, with all their talk of town legacy and family history.

I thought of what I knew about Shaggy’s dad—his harsh demeanor, the way he was always too busy working to ever attend our school events or Shaggy’s surf competitions, the disappointed way he always looked at his son.

And then I thought about all the things I didn’t know about Shaggy’s dad, and Shaggy himself. My low-grade concern for him bloomed, expanding into an all-encompassing, full-body anxiety. I cracked my knuckles, frowning, while I concentrated on staring at the table. I couldn’t face Shaggy’s open, earnest eyes.

At a minimum, the Rogers family was about to face some serious scrutiny about their business affairs; at a maximum, Shaggy’s dad was in serious trouble. Neither possibility was great, but one thing was for certain: The Rogers family had more secrets than all my old diaries combined.

Now it was up to us to discover them.