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"STOP FRAMING RANDOM PEOPLE, SCOTT!" Stiles scowled as Scott placed Paul Preakness' picture onto the 'MURDERER' section of the suspect board, which was actually just Brietta's wall, though they pretended it was a suspect board. After all, it did have a piece of tape with 'SUSPECT BOARD' written on it.
               Scott scoffed and turned around. "He's obviously the murderer!"
               Stiles' head snapped back in disbelief. "How can he be the murderer?"
               Scott held his hands out and motioned to Brietta, who sat on her bed surrounded by a pile of evidence. "I'm supposed to believe that," Scott motioned back to Paul Preakness, "he's a senior in high school?"
               Brietta looked up from the printed CCTV footage and glanced at Paul's picture. "He's got a point, Stiles. He looks more like a senior citizen than a high school senior."
               Stiles scoffed and walked over to the suspect board, removing Paul's picture and placing it on the 'SUSPECT' side. Scott glared at him as he did.
               "I'm going to the bathroom," Stiles announced before backing out of the room and into the bathroom connected to Brietta's room. Stiles pointed at his eyes and then to Scott before slipping into the bathroom.
               As soon as the bathroom door shut, Scott moved Paul's picture back over to the 'MURDERER' section, and Brietta giggled at their shenanigans.
               "You two are ridiculous," she said, still chuckling. Soon, her throat felt dry and she dropped the paper in her hands onto the bed as she slid off, "I'm gonna go make some lemonade. I'll be right back."
               Scott nodded and took her spot on the bed as she walked out of her room. Brietta jogged quietly down the stairs, being careful not to wake her grandmother.
               As Brietta went to her kitchen drawer for a knife, a knock sounded at the door. Brietta furrowed her eyebrows, glancing at the clock above the door. Who the hell was knocking at their door at 11:23 p.m.?
               Brietta considered not answering, but then she wondered if it might be a delivery driver. Ellington had a tendency to order things frequently, and sometimes these orders arrived late at night.
               With a sigh, Brietta smoothed out her pajama pants as she approached her front door. She peered through the peephole, but nobody was there.
               Her eyebrows furrowed, and despite the little voice in her head telling her to let it go, she unlocked the door and swung it open.
               Looking around her dimly lit street, Brietta began to step out of the door but her foot pushed against something. She looked down to see a small cardboard box with a symbol on it. It had three swirls, and it looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place where she had seen it before.
               Brietta picked up the box and examined it, but there was no return address or anything else printed on it, not even her address. This meant that the owner had likely delivered it themselves.
               Brietta shook the box in her hands and heard a flapping sound like paper and a sharp sound like a small chain.
               She lifted her gaze from the box and glanced around, but there was nobody outside. Brietta bit the inside of her bottom lip for a moment before returning inside with the box.