I BLINKED FURIOUSLY WHEN we finally made our way out of the sea caves and back into the fresh air. The sky was still gray, but it was one of those bright grays—like a blank canvas, waiting for a fresh coat of paint. I breathed in the air, embraced the cool water circling my feet.

Velma and I treaded carefully toward the beach. Rocks jutted out from the sand at all angles and heights, and I forged a path through them using the breaking sea foam as my guide. Up ahead, past the sand, several police cars blocked the road, sirens off but lights flashing, like someone had muted the chase scene of a movie. I felt dazed, like I’d just awoken from a bad dream, an unexpected nap.

We found our shoes and brushed the wet sand from our feet as best we could, neither of us saying anything. What was there to say right now? Later, we’d need to discuss what Noelle had said about the curse of Crystal Cove, and what to do with poor Taylor. I couldn’t believe what her mom had put her up to. Posing as the Lady Vampire, following me and Velma around to throw us off the case … it was something no teenager should have to deal with.

But all that, we’d have to deal with later. Right now? Now I just wanted something warm to drink, and maybe someone warm to drink it with.

A text bleated at me. It was Ram, saying he had to tell me something. Warmth pooled inside me, and I responded with a thumbs-up. Later, I’d check in with him, but first, I needed to change out of my wet clothes and wash my rained-on hair. My body was damp from the caves, my limbs hollowed out from the rush and then retreat of adrenaline.

We crossed Beach Street and cut through the crowds of Crystal Cove residents pouring toward the mouth of the caves, staring at the woman in handcuffs being escorted into a police car. I scanned the crowd for Shaggy, but neither he nor his father were anywhere to be seen.

Velma followed me home—my house was closer—where we waved hello to my little sisters and my stepdad (I avoided him when he asked us if we’d seen the mess down at the beach) and then collapsed in my bedroom. I was almost too tired to shower, but then I realized I wanted to pop into the Howler offices and see what the latest article was shaping up to be. And, of course, see if Ram was there.

After my shower I found Velma sitting at my desk chair, phone in her hand and an unreadable expression on her face. “Daph?” she said hesitantly when she saw me.

“Taking a hot shower after solving a mystery is really the perfect method of self-care,” I said as I combed my hair. “You wanna hop in?”

Velma didn’t say anything, just continued looking at me with a weird mixture of fear and apprehension on her face. She looked, I realized, like the sky was about to fall, and she had to be the one to break the news.

“V, what is it?” I started to get that seed of worry in my stomach. It danced around, threatening to bloom.

“Um …” She stalled, glancing at her phone and then back at me, her eyes wide. I dropped my brush and rushed over to the desk, where my own phone was charging. A breaking news alert from the Howler flashed back at me.

The Kids Are All Right! Local Intern a Hero after Solving Spate of Local Mysteries.

For a second, I wondered who the headline was referring to. And then I realized … it had to be me.

Milford must have heard all about how Velma and I had solved the case, about how we figured out the jewels were a diversion and the Crystal was the real get; about how we’d chased Noelle into the caves and tracked down the factory she’d used—and he’d been so impressed with me, his lowly intern, that he’d written a profile all about me.

And then I read the damn thing.

It was pretty late when I arrived at the Howler offices, and the office park was near deserted. While most people had long gone home, I knew Ram would be there; he’d posted a video to his social feed. I wasn’t sure I’d ever forget the image: him sitting at the desk next to mine, looking directly into the camera and raising a glass of sparkling cider. He’d linked to the Howler’s headline in his caption. Already, his post had two hundred likes.

Velma escorted me all the way to the elevators on the ground floor. Her tirade had begun in my bedroom and still hadn’t let up. I had a headache forming behind my eyes and a flame of anger cresting through my veins. It was almost comforting, to be in that spot again—anger had always been what I’d done best, had always been my refuge. My rage was a weapon I’d long ago learned how to wield.

“This is unbelievable!” she fumed. “He’s trying to take all the credit for our hard work! How on earth can he justify this to himself? Throughout history men have been doing this exact same thing. Look at all the famous men who ignored or dismissed the contributions their female partners made! From scientific breakthroughs to art to novels to computers—ugh, it just makes me so mad! Aren’t you mad, Daphne?!”

Mad didn’t cover it. I was pissed. But I’d also learned some things about myself recently, and in that moment, standing with Velma—who had enough anger for the both of us—I decided to look deeper. To look inward.

And underneath my anger I found … disappointment. Grief, even.

I, Daphne Blake, was sad.

I held up a hand weakly, my throat aching. “Yes. Please. Just stop. I know.”

“But it’s unacceptable! He thinks just because he’s a man, he can steal this story from you? I—”

“Velma,” I said more firmly, pressing the Up button. “Enough. I got this.”

We heard the elevator whooshing through its shaft, and I saw the change in Velma’s face, the way her muscles relaxed, like all the air had been let out of her. I nearly smiled then. Velma’s fury was different than mine, but it came from the right place. She had my back, and I’d never been more grateful.

“You got this,” she repeated. I nodded. And when the elevator dinged and the door opened, I stepped in, leaving her behind. I had to do this on my own.

I stepped off the elevator and into what can only be described as a full-fledged party, of which Ram was the star. Milford and the other Howler executives and staff were in the large conference room, drinking from the many opened bottles of champagne that lined the table. A tower of empty pizza boxes sat under the windows; music was playing from someone’s computer but, with all the celebratory conversations, I couldn’t make out what it was.

It didn’t matter. My eyes landed on Ram, who was seated at the head of the conference room table, wearing a smile so wide I could practically see his molars.

Seeing him, I realized I’d already burned through all my anger on the way over here. Now I was just … disappointed.

It was as if my disappointment formed tentacles, became a living, breathing thing of its own, and reached out through the glass walls of the conference room to slither into Ram’s lap, because just then, he looked right at me. And his smile faltered.

Ram hesitated for a moment before standing up, shaking a few hands, getting a few pats on his back in that way guys do to each other, and then slipping through the door, his eyes darting over to me. Without a word I escaped through the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time until I reached the top-floor cafeteria. I assumed it would be empty at this time of evening, and it was; even the ever-present coffeepots had been flicked off, the rising moon reflecting off their dregs.

I stood at the wall of windows overlooking Crystal Cove. I’d never noticed it before, but from here I could see the roof of my own house as well as the faint outline of the Dinkley property. Downtown, the lights flickered on—the movie theater marquee, the charming lamps dotting every street corner—and as I watched them, the oddest sensation washed over me. It was like I’d slipped on an invisible hazmat suit, closing me off from the rest of the world. I even felt it on my face—a tightening of my jaw, an unconscious gritting of my teeth. It was a shutting in of sorts—a click of a lever, a lock sliding into place. By the time Ram appeared at the windows next to me, my transformation was complete. I had shut myself down completely, and there was no way in or out.

“Blake.” Ram’s voice was apologetic, cutting through the silence of the cafeteria. He panted a little, out of breath from the stairs. His desperation was palpable; thin and stringy, like I could pluck it from him in strands. “I can explain.”

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the lights downtown, at the way I could see people, small and fast, scurrying through the streets. The day’s thunderstorm had opened up the sky, pushed the haze and clouds away, leaving us with a clear, star-filled night. I imagined I could hear the noises of downtown—the clinking of dishes in the diner, the buzzing of the popcorn machine at the theater, the grinding of beans at The Mocha. I wondered how many of the people enjoying the night down there were still thinking of the jewels, or the Crystal. Of Noelle, of the Vanished, of the ghosts that haunted us.

A lump formed in my throat. It was strange how you could be in a building full of people, standing next to one in particular you had spent a lot of time thinking about, and still feel so alone.

“Please, Blake. It wasn’t my idea,” Ram tried again. And it was the wheedling tone that did it for me, that cracked open the armor just enough for some of my emotions to spill out. I couldn’t stop them.

I slowly faced him. “Tell me, Ram. How’s it feel to be a hero?”

His jaw twitched. His dark eyes glinted. “I’m not a hero.”

My face contorted into a smirk. “No kidding.”

“I didn’t ask for that headline.”

“But I bet you didn’t fight it, either,” I said flatly. My voice didn’t sound like my own. It was robotic. My body was, too; all creaky elbows and tightened muscles. I’d never felt less like myself.

“What was I supposed to do?” Ram pulled at his hair. “Milford knew I was working on this story and demanded to see what I had. I updated him just as we got confirmation there’d been an arrest. And …”

He raised his hands, shrugged. As if that were enough to convince me, to make me understand that he’d had no control over the outcome, no voice in how the story should be told. Or by whom.

“I trusted you,” I said slowly, realizing in that moment how big a deal that had been. How new it had felt for me, how scary and exciting at the same time—to crack myself open the tiniest of bits and let in some light. “I even convinced Velma to trust you.”

“You can trust me!”

I barked out a bitter laugh and crossed my arms over my chest. The moonlight shifted; someone downstairs turned up the music, and the bass pounded through the floor. The party was still going strong. A celebration of the Howler’s coverage of events, of Ram’s quick thinking.

“Sure, Ram,” I said. “You’ve really convinced me of that with this stunt.”

Ram pulled at his hair again, his face twisting. “You don’t understand. I’m not like you, Blake. I don’t have your connections. Your famous mom, your lawyer dad. I had to fight like crazy to make it this far.”

“Ah.” I nodded as if I understood, even agreed. “So it’s my own fault, then, for being a Blake. Cool.”

“No! It’s not! I’m just saying! To help you understand! I’ve been here a full year, toiling away, and then you waltzed in and had all these great ideas. And Milford loved you right away!” He sighed, paused. Met my eyes. Something in them softened; his voice dropped. “The truth is, I was jealous, Blake. You have everything you could ever want. You’re … fantastic. But you have to believe me—I didn’t plan any of this. Honestly. It all just spun out of control.”

I stared at him in awe. It was wild how someone could be so into someone else—could be daydreaming about a future, about a relationship—and then have it so utterly turned upside down in a single moment, or by a single headline.

Something new burst forward in me then, warm and thick. With a jolt I realized what it was: embarrassment. What a fool I’d been, thinking I could reveal my true self to someone. My cheeks warmed at my mistake.

“You know …” I stammered, feeling out the words. “I really liked you, Ram.”

“You can still like me!” he exclaimed. “Please, Blake.”

I shook my head, eyes trained on the floor. I couldn’t even answer him; my throat was locked up, my lips glued shut.

“I get that you’re mad. And you have every right to be. But I have to tell you something, something related to the case.” Ram’s tone had shifted. He was all business now, but earnest, like he really needed me to hear this.

“Tell it to Milford.”

“No, seriously. It’s about Jack.”

Jack was the furthest thing from my mind in that moment. I shook my head. “I don’t care.”

“If I know anything about you, Daphne Blake, it’s that you want the truth. The whole story.” Ram hesitated. When I didn’t interject, he continued. “I don’t know what it means, if it means anything at all. But you should know … when I got to the Rogers mansion, Jack Rogers was there. At least, I assume it was Jack Rogers. He looked like an older version of your friend Shaggy.”

“So?” I was tired; uninterested, even. It had been the longest of days.

“So … he didn’t see me, Blake.” Ram’s eyes bored into mine, like there was a secret message in them I was supposed to decipher. But I was done trying to figure Ram out; the only person I needed to figure out was myself. “He was carting boxes out of the garage and into his car. And he was doing it in a hurry. He looked manic. Scared, even. And I … well, I guess I just wanted you to know. Because of your relationship with Shaggy.”

My mouth dropped open, but Ram just shrugged. “He seems like he’s a good friend of yours, I mean.”

Right. Friends. Yes, Shaggy and I were friends.

“So …” Ram drew out the word. I let him. I let it linger over us.

Finally, I said, “So is that it, then? That’s what you wanted to tell me?”

Ram opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again.

We stayed still, silent, for so long that the motion-sensor lights in the cafeteria flicked off, swathing us in darkness. We stayed there, moonlight cutting across the room, until I decided I could control my body enough to walk away, that I was strong enough for the physical act of moving. I’d forgotten how much it ached, keeping this wall around me.

But not as much as it had hurt to let someone in only to have them attack from the inside.