=:= Stacey =:=

It was the first Monday of May. Six months had passed since Detective Saunders was called in on that mysterious 'suicide' case early last November. The deceased was ex-military, a sniper or hit-man, she was sure of that. All the weapons and other gear they'd found with the body made that clear.

They knew his rifle had recently been discharged, the spent cartridge was found packed away with the weapon. There was also a wireless detonator among his belongings, and they found damage and explosive residue near a stop sign some two hundred meters from where the deceased had been discovered. It seemed like he'd just completed a job, though no other bodies were found in the area.

She'd eventually connected him to the group who'd been involved in that terrorist business in the middle of November. She knew that six men had travelled together from the UK to Canada in late October. They were staying in a rented house, which mysteriously burned down the day after the alleged suicide.

Now all that remained of the six men were three bodies. The first was her so-called suicide victim. The second and third were recovered from a burned-out SUV after the attack on that high-school. A fourth man was presumed dead though no remains had been recovered.

According to witness statements, he stole a sports-car after fleeing the school. Traffic-camera footage confirmed the sports-car wound up northbound on the nearby highway, where it subsequently vanished in a massive explosion.

Stacey saw dash-cam footage of the explosion that someone had shared online. The sports-car was driving erratically, and in addition to the alleged terrorist there was a passenger. She looked like a small blonde teen, maybe fifteen or sixteen years old. A few seconds after the sports-car sped passed, it was still in view of the dash-cam when it was destroyed in the blast. Witnesses hadn't seen the teen when the car was stolen, and none of the high-school students were missing.

The remaining two men disappeared without a trace. One of them rented a car on November tenth, and was never seen again. The rental car was found a week later in a restaurant parking lot in Thorold, with its GPS wiped clean.

And the last man boarded a flight out of Canada a few hours after the attack on the sixteenth. Witnesses confirmed he was on the plane, flight attendants remembered he was anxious as they served him drinks. But by the time the plane landed at Heathrow, he was nowhere to be found.

Witnesses also reported seeing a strange blonde teen partway through the flight. She was noteworthy because of her clothes, which were torn and possibly bloodstained. Two passengers commented it looked as if she'd recently been in a car accident. There was no trace of her either, when the plane landed in the UK.

This was part of what had Stacey so confused. Witnesses reported an unidentified young blonde teen at the high-school. She was seen at both the crashed SUV and the crashed sedan. Dash-cam footage placed her in the sports-car up till the moment it exploded. And witnesses saw the girl on an international flight, though she neither boarded nor disembarked the plane.

Witnesses at the high-school mentioned a second mystery figure. A purple-haired 'catgirl' helped evacuate students from the cafeteria where three of the terrorists attacked. She was seen directing students to safety, then she ran into the cafeteria. There was no trace of her after that, however.

Of course, officially none of this was Detective Saunders' business. About a week after the attack on the high-school, feds from Ottawa stepped in and took over. They closed the case before the end of December. The official report stated it was a failed terrorist attack. It basically said three men tried to attack the high-school, but had blown themselves up by mistake.

Stacey didn't believe a word of it.

There were too many unanswered questions, too many loose threads. It didn't address the two men who'd vanished. It didn't mention what the terrorists' goal was, who their target was, what they were doing in Canada. The report didn't mention the alleged suicide or the fact that there was obviously an assassination attempt in rural Niagara. And there was no mention at all of the blonde teen or the catgirl.

She was convinced there was a cover-up, she just wasn't sure who was covering for whom, or why. She wanted answers. She tried making enquiries through official channels but was continually shut down, and eventually given a warning to let it go.

She'd spent the last four months calling in favours, pouring through witness statements, official reports, and hunting up obscure photos and video clips on social media and conspiracy websites. Eventually she matched the witness reports of a 'purple-haired catgirl' to a name, Zoe Zaitsev. And that got her a name for the mysterious blonde teen, Cindy Talbot.

Pictures on the girls' social media feeds seemed to match the images she'd seen in the handful of video clips, and the witnesses' descriptions. Detective Saunders didn't believe in magic, but she knew there was something going on here, and she was determined to get to the bottom of it.

She searched through official databases and found the young women's' drivers licenses on the Ministry of Transportation database. They both listed the same address as their residence, a location not two minutes away from where the alleged suicide victim was found. She also discovered neither girl had much of a history. Cindy first appeared on official records three and a half years ago, and Zoe only two years ago. Prior to that, neither seemed to exist at all.

Their drivers licenses raised as many questions as they answered. The blonde looked fifteen or sixteen but her official ID indicated she was nineteen. In fact her nineteenth birthday had been the day before the terrorist attack, though that may have been a coincidence.

And the other one was wearing her 'cat-ears' in her official ID photo, which Stacey knew wouldn't be allowed. They didn't even let people wear prescription glasses in their official photos. She'd have assumed the ID was fake, except she'd found it in the official database. The only explanation she could think of was the government database had been tampered with.

She knew there wasn't much she could do without a warrant, and she knew she'd be reprimanded if any of this got back to her bosses. But she couldn't leave it alone, and she'd almost reached the point where she didn't care. She'd already lost faith in the job, after dedicating almost three decades of her life to it. Having feds come in and close up a case out from under her without any real answers might not have been the last straw, but it wasn't far off.

Stacey was off-duty today, she didn't have anything else going on, and she'd run out of leads and favours. About the only thing left to do was to try and talk to her two young suspects. So she got in her car and set out for the vineyard where they both lived.

About thirty minutes later she pulled onto the private drive. She passed the winery on her left and the spiritual retreat on her right. She pulled into a spot beside the house, and parked next to a large black Land Rover SUV.

As she approached the front door, she knew there was a good chance neither Cindy or Zoe would be here. Their most recent social media updates were from a week ago, and had them in Wales. Still, she knew the other occupants here might have some information for her.

She knocked then waited.

After a minute or two the door opened to an attractive redhead in her early twenties. She stood about six inches shorter than Stacey, and was dressed in skinny jeans and a t-shirt that showed off her curves.

Detective Saunders recognized her of course, she'd checked the Ministry of Transportation records for everyone who lived here. This was Jessica Carlisle, sister of one of the two homeowners.

"Hello, can I help you?" Jessica asked.

"Good afternoon," she said in a polite but official tone. "I'm looking for Miss Talbot and Miss Zaitsev. Are they home?"

The redhead hesitated, her eyes going up and down over Stacey, then she asked "May I ask who you are, and what your business is with them?"

Stacey was dressed 'business casual', her usual work attire. She wore dark slacks, a light blouse, and a light loose jacket. She slipped her hand into her jacket pocket and pulled out her badge, "I'm Detective Saunders, Niagara Regional Police. I have some questions for Miss Talbot and Miss Zaitsev." After a pause she asked, "What is your name please, miss?"

"I'm Jessica Carlisle," she replied. She was acting suspicious of Stacey now, her eyes narrowed a little as she said "Cindy and Zoe aren't here. They travel a lot, and they don't really have a fixed itinerary so I can't tell you when we might see them next."

Behind the redhead, Stacey spotted a tall thin blonde approaching. This one was almost as tall as Stacey, perhaps only an inch or so shorter. Their blonde hair was trimmed short, and they were wearing mens-cut jeans and a loose t-shirt. Stacey knew this was Kara Duncan, another resident here. Kara's ID listed their gender as 'X', or non-binary.

"What's going on?" Kara asked, looking Stacey over. "Who are you?"

"Detective Saunders," Stacey replied. "Looking for Cindy Talbot and Zoe Zaitsev."

Kara scowled, "Why, what did they do?"

"She says she just wants to question them, but she hasn't said why." Jessica told her friend. She looked back at Stacey and said, "If you have a number or something, I can pass it on to them, next time they're back."

Stacey pulled a business card out and handed over, though as she did she asked "Do you have contact information for either Miss Talbot or Miss Zaitsev?"

Jessica shook her head, "No, sorry. They travel so much, they're rarely in one place long enough to set up a phone plan."

"All right, thank you both for your time." She turned and walked back to her car. She was positive the redhead was lying about that. She was sure as soon as she'd driven off, the girl would be contacting Cindy or Zoe and letting them know about her visit.

As she drove back home, Stacey continued thinking about the case, the strange eyewitness reports, all the loose ends that didn't add up. She had no idea where it would all lead. There was a good chance it would go nowhere. But if she could find some answers, at least she could put it to bed in her mind.

She stopped at her favourite East-Indian restaurant on the way home and got take-away, then finally pulled into the underground parking. A few minutes later she was in her apartment, sitting on the sofa with dinner on the coffee table in front of her and a glass of white wine in hand.

Stacey ate quietly, her thoughts going back and forth through everything she knew about this bizarre case. One thought that came up was the two young women might be in some kind of witness protection system. That could explain the 'fake but official' ID. If that were the case then she'd probably just opened a can of worms for herself by visiting their home and identifying herself.

The other, crazier thought she had was the girls worked for the feds, or CSIS maybe. That might explain their close involvement with terrorists, and their constant international travel. Except she couldn't believe any government agency would hire a sixteen-year-old girl, or a twenty-year-old who insisted on wearing cat ears and a tail.

Eventually she'd had enough to eat, and packaged up the left-overs. She put the remaining food in the fridge, tidied up, then poured herself a second glass of wine. As she stepped through from the kitchen back into her living-room, there was a moment of disorientation and things seemed to spin for a half second.

Stacey blinked. She wasn't in her apartment anymore.

She found herself standing in what appeared to be a fairly modern log cabin, with an open-concept design. The spacious room was dominated by a big circular fireplace in the middle, where a large fire was burning. Around the fireplace sat a sofa and a couple big easy-chairs. On the other side of the fire stood a life-sized stone statue, which looked very out-of-place here.

Stacey's eyes were drawn to the statue for a moment. It seemed to be of a young woman. She looked about twenty years old. Her hair hung down to her shoulders, and she was wearing a skirt and blouse, of some kind of rustic style. There were Celtic knots decorating the blouse. The woman held a short sword in her right hand, raised somewhat as if she were expecting trouble.

The statue stood just to the right of what seemed to be the front door, and it was positioned facing inwards, staring at the fire.

Turning around, Stacey noted that much of the space was unfurnished, apart from the sofa and chairs by the fire. There was a door in the middle of the wall behind her that led into a hallway. In the middle of the wall behind the statue was what looked like the front door. And in a corner to the left of the front door was a third door that looked to be for a small closet.

There were windows in the walls to her left and right, and on either side of the front door. Outside the windows was just darkness though, as if it were night-time now.

Stacey turned around again and this time realized she wasn't alone. Seated in one of the chairs was none other than Cindy Talbot.

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