Marquis lowered his voice, but I could still hear him. “Actually, I was thinking, maybe you’d want to play something with me? Something co-op, you know, so I don’t have to rely on AI teammates who keep getting me killed in Shadowlight Escape?”
Deva hesitated, and I wondered if the whole world had stopped spinning for her just then. “Yeah,” she said, a little too quickly. “Yeah, I’d like that. Just don’t expect me to carry you.”
He laughed and did that thing where he looked at her and only her, the rest of us fading to static. I had to glance away because it felt like eavesdropping. It was super sweet.
After a moment, Marquis seemed to remember the rest of us. “What brings the gang to Button Mashers? I hope nobody’s developing a speed addiction to Candy Crush. I can write a prescription.”
Deva explained about Alice. That she’d been missing for more than two days, that no one had seen her, that we were hitting all her usual spots and Button Mashers was next on the list.Marquis listened with that exacting, clinical focus that made him a great doctor, then asked if we’d called the police yet.
“Yes,” Beth said, glancing over at me. “They’re doing their thing, and Daniel is helping them, but we decided to do what we can as well.”
Marquis nodded. “Let me know if I can help.” He pecked Deva on the forehead, then turned and strode up to the register, his new game cradled like a kitten. The shopkeeper gave him a strained smile and rang him up without making eye contact. As Marquis exited, Deva watched him go, her mouth curled in a secret smile as they waved at each other.
Watching Deva act like a blushing teenager was honestly adorable.
With the Marquis portion of the meet-and-greet concluded, we regrouped by the counter, where Trevor was already fidgeting with a roll of packing tape, clearly wishing he’d called in sick. Up close, Trevor looked barely twenty, with hair the color of butterscotch pudding and a nervous overbite that made his jaw twitch whenever he talked. He wore a button-up shirt patterned with tiny carrots, and his hands were stained with orange Cheetos dust.
Carol sidled up next to me. “Rabbit shifter,” she murmured, and I tried to stifle a giggle. She turned to Beth. “Want me to take notes for you?”
Beth smiled. “That would be great.” Then, flipped her notebook to the right page and handed her notebook and pen over to Carol.
Beth, professional as ever, took the lead. “Hi there. Trevor, is it? We’re looking for someone, and we think she may have been in here a couple days ago.”
Trevor perked up, blinking rapidly. “Oh, um, yeah? Is it about the shoplifting thing? Because I swear, that was a one-time?—”
Beth cut him off with a polite, teeth-baring smile. “Not shoplifting, don’t worry. We’re looking for Alice. Short, dark hair, wears a lot of cardigans, kind of shy–”
Trevor’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “A girl. There aren’t that many girls that come in here… although more than in the past, I’m told. Alice. Yeah, she comes in here sometimes. She’s nice. Not a big talker, but yeah, she was here. Two days ago, I think? Is she okay?”
“Sort of. We’re just looking for her,” Beth explained, her tone professional.
Carol scribbled this down in her notebook, even though she’d probably remember the details forever. “Did you notice if she was with anyone?”
Trevor thought about it. “No. She usually comes alone. Spends a lot of time in the clearance aisle. Last time, though, she bought a Wicked Widow bobblehead and then left. I remember because we just got those in, and she got number one of the limited batch.”
“Did she seem normal?” Beth asked. “Not acting weird? Or, rather, weirder than usual?”
Trevor winced. “No one is really ‘weird’ anymore. Our shop welcomes all types. It’s one of the great things about this place.” Beth looked a little chastised for her thoughtless comment. “Butno, she was fine. She told me about the Wicked Widow movie—she’s obsessed with it—and we talked about how bad the sequel looks. She paid cash and left. That was it.”
Carol looked up. “What time was that?”
“Let me check.” Trevor checked the register, scrolling while we all glanced around as if interested in the games and shows we weren’t familiar with. “Around four-thirty. She said she had to get home before dark, but I thought she was just making a vampire joke. Uh. You don’t think a vampire was really…?”
Beth shook her head. “We’re just checking all the boxes.”
I glanced at the security camera behind Trevor. “You wouldn’t happen to have footage from that day, would you?”
He hesitated, then shrugged. “I can check, but the system’s mostly for show. Battery keeps dying.” He rummaged under the counter, produced a battered laptop, and after a minute of furious typing, pulled up a grainy black-and-white video.
We all crowded around the screen. Sure enough, Alice appeared, cardigan and all, at precisely 4:32 p.m., scanning the shelves with her usual birdlike intensity. My heart clenched a little looking at her, and I had a flash of my brother’s worried face in the back of my mind before I refocused. She found the Wicked Widow toy, cradled it to her chest, and took it to the counter, where she exchanged a brief, awkward conversation with Trevor and then left, her head ducked. There was no one else in the frame, no sign of a shadowy kidnapper or even a moderately shady bystander.
Beth watched the video three times, then leaned back, disappointed. “Well. That’s a dead end.”
Carol closed the notebook and handed it and the pen back to her. “Don’t worry, there’s still more to investigate.”
The disappointment I felt was sharp, and my hopes deflated like a leaking balloon. I didn’t know what I’d expected. A clue. A cryptic message. A flash of certainty that would break the case wide open. But all we had was a timestamp and a bobblehead, and the faint, persistent worry that maybe Alice hadn’t just wandered off on a whim.
We thanked Trevor and left the shop, squinting into the now-overcast afternoon. Beth offered to drive us to the next stop, but I shook my head and started walking. Deva and Carol followed, hands stuffed deep into their coat pockets.
