As uncomfortable a temperature as the shower was, Jane stayed under it for nearly an hour. Her mind, as it always did, chased its own tail. Around and around went her thoughts, a veritable cyclone of anxious ideas and cold, logical analysis.

Beatrice. The pain in her body. Ryder. The ring of hazing Jane had gone through.

They were protecting something.

The voice in her head piped up again. She should stop poking into this, it implored her. It could have been far worse and far, far more violent. She was lucky that the extent of all they did was intimidate her.

And intimidated she felt. Her breathing quickened at the mere memory.

But they were protecting something. Something important enough to try and scare her off. And at the center of it all was Ryder Jackson.

Not so perfect in the end. Despite herself, she smiled.

The rain outside seemed to drone in concert with the shower, creating a harmony of falling water.

All her snooping had paid off. She just wished it hadn't come at such a painful cost.

With fingers numb from cold, she turned the knob. The water shut off, leaving the rain to sing alone.

Toweling off, she managed the short walk to her room without rousing a word from her mother.

With a sigh of relief, she shut her door as quietly as possible.

Her phone rang somewhere in the house. Jane cursed. She had forgotten it where she'd left it, in the hall.

"Jane, someone's calling you," her mother called from the kitchen.

Unlocking her door, she followed the buzzing tone.

The screen, once again, showed a photo of Victoria. A red number in the corner denoted how many times she had tried to call her. Another red number, below it, indicated that she had another text message from someone else. She decided to ignore the latter.

The little voice in her head, once more, piped up to voice its opinion.

Stupid, stupid Jane. Making your only friend worry. All you think about is yourself.

Jane shook her head, then answered the call.

"Jane! Where have you been?" Victoria sounded surprised that she had even picked up.

"Sorry, I- I just felt sick." That lie had worked once, why not twice?

"You could've texted me! I thought you got kidnapped or something."

"I'm sorry, I forgot," Jane said.

The dim hallway was strangely warm despite the weather. Maybe it was the poor construction of the house. Jane leaned against the wall, damp hair clinging to her neck.

There was a scratching sound at the other end of the call.

"What are you doing?" Jane asked.

"Hang on..." Victoria replied. "Somebody wrote 'beanstalk' on my locker."

Jane's free hand instinctively went to her mouth. She chewed her thumbnail.

"Maybe it was a prank," Jane lied, between nervous bites.

She knew who it was. And why.

"Who would write something like that? Must be a total weirdo," Victoria replied, not noticing Jane's more-quiet-than-usual voice.

She had to keep going, Jane realized. She couldn't stop. She wouldn't stop. Even if they pulled Victoria in, too.

"Hey, Vicky, I'm kinda tired," she said, desperate to get back to her thoughts.

"Oh, oh yeah, sick. Gotcha. Well, I'll see you tomorrow," Victoria replied. "Get some rest, okay?"

"See ya," Jane said, closing the call

She stood there in silence for a few moments, still chewing her nail.

The screen, no longer in use, had switched off. It reflected her pale face. It looked worried.

What would her next move be?

She obviously had to cover her tracks better, now that they had discovered her. She doubted they were in the least bit tech-savvy, but better safe than sorry was Jane's personal motto.

The girl in the reflection continued her worried frown, questioning her. Is this truly what she wants to do?

Her mother entered the hallway from the kitchen, startling her. "Mom!"

Her mother laughed.

"Oh, you were always such a scaredy-cat," she said, smiling. "I remember your father always found that funny about you."

"Mom, I-"

Her mother waved her hand, interrupting her. "I made your favorite. Come on, you look like you're starving."

Almost as if it heard her, Jane's stomach chose that moment to growl. She realized she was very hungry. She had skipped both breakfast and lunch.

Maybe just a few bites wouldn't hurt.

She followed her mother into the kitchen, which, thankfully, had lost much of its alcohol stench.

Colcannon. The first time Jane had tried it was when she was a child. Her family had gone on vacation to Ireland, and the hotel they had been staying at served it to them. Her mother had berated her father for letting Jane eat it until she was sick. She smiled at the memory.

She brought the spoon to her mouth, blowing on it. The smell was amazing.

Her mother took a sip of something in a plastic cup. Jane eyed it suspiciously as she chewed.

"You walked home in the rain, didn't you? You could catch a cold like that!" her mother admonished.

"I didn't," Jane lied.

Her mother raised her eyebrows at her. "I saw the wet clothes."

Jane looked down at her plate, face flushing. "Sorry."

"You get that from him, you know," her mother said, taking another sip. "He always lied... so I wouldn't worry."

Jane's grip on her spoon tightened. She really didn't need this right now. Or ever, for the matter.

"Remember when he got you that old computer?" her mother asked.

Jane could smell it on her mom's breath; alcohol. Again.

"Yeah, mom, me and dad built it together. Five-hundred megs of RAM." The computer in question had been sold along with the house when they'd moved to Alexander.

Another sip. The pair stared blankly at the table, refusing to look at each other.

Jane had to say something. She couldn't take the silence. Not when the reason they'd moved hung in the air.

"Uh- he, taught me coding too. I mean- he didn't really get it but..." she trailed off awkwardly, having spoken about the first thing that came to mind.

Her mom smiled wistfully once more. The cup was half emptied. "You're not going to tell me what really happened, are you?"

"Nothing happened, mom. It's... I have it under control," Jane said. She hoped she was telling the truth.

Her mother nodded slowly. Jane realized that she was swaying slightly.

"You're not doing... that again, are you?" her mother asked.

As if recoiling, Jane pushed the plate away with a scrape of porcelain against wood. Abruptly, she wasn't hungry anymore.

Wordlessly, she stood and returned to her room.

For the second time that day, she found herself face down and crying, hugging the stuffed bear to her chest.

Stupid mom. Stupid Victoria. Stupid Alexander township.

She couldn't tell which emotion was stronger, her guilt or her anger.

No, it was neither. Her strongest emotion was that of missing her father.

Her laptop sat next to her, screen emitting a light glow. The rain had abated, leaving the air heavy with humidity.

She dragged it towards her by the keyboard, the bear acting as a barrier between the hard plastic and her own chest.

With a few clicks, an extensive text file displayed the keylogger's data. It had recorded every single keystroke the library computer had received, from passwords to embarrassing searches for rash cream.

If Beatrice had used the computer recently, Jane would have at least an idea of her password. Hopefully.

She brought up the automatic search function of the text reader program. A few seconds of typing later and it began its exhaustive search for anything relating to Beatrice Ruth.

The computer dinged, startling her. That was quick.

She realized why as she looked at the tally count. There were only two mentions of Beatrice, one of which was about an unreturned book, and the other a simple class record.

In short, she had nothing.

Another program. This time, a web browser.

Even from a cursory internet search, she could see that gathering information on Beatrice would be daunting. The search engine displayed pages upon pages of social media relating to the aspiring cheerleader captain.

Curiously, she clicked on the first link. It directed her to a page full of pictures uploaded by Beatrice. A perfect filmstrip of narcissistic egoism, punctuated by inane quotes over unrelated photographs of sunsets.

Beatrice smiling at the camera, or performing short, trendy dances, or miscellaneous snapshots of her life. The more glamorous snapshots, at least.

It made Jane sick, much like Ryder's social media did.

Jane ceased her scrolling. Combing through Beatrice's online pictures would yield no clues. It only served to make her feel worse.

She sighed, and rolled on to her back.

What kind of weakness does a girl like Beatrice have?

And there it was again. The feeling. She knew what Beatrice's weakness was, she just had to focus.

She shut her eyes. Think, Jane.

Her phone buzzed. She ignored it, focusing on her thought process.

Shady group of friends that do... something together. Ryder Jackson. Baggie. Random bag inspection.

There was nothing. The trail was cold.

Frustrated, she closed her laptop screen. She would have to find another way.

The phone buzzed once again. Jane snatched it up with a hiss of annoyance. Who keeps texting her?

[01:55]Unknown number: There is chatter amongst their group. What did you do?

[04:14]Unknown number: This is serious. You spooked them. We must meet in person.

[04:15]Unknown number: Lay low. These are dangerous people. If we have to take them down, we need to make sure we do it properly. They are beyond the law.

Jane's annoyance tipped in favor of a dawning uneasiness. This was no prank message by an internet joker, as she thought earlier that day. Whoever this was, they were watching her. Or, at the least, watching the same people she was watching.

Evidently, the unknown number knew more about them than Jane did. Knew more about nearly everything, with what Jane could glean from the text. Dangerous people, they said. Beyond the law.

A crawling feeling began its path down her spine. She wasn't the only watcher in Alexander. Someone else was skulking around, and she'd never noticed.