Working early shifts in The Last Drop was a blessing. While they occupied most of Gemma's daylight hours, the pub's first customers came in steady trickles rather than droves, and they tended to be friendlier than the irritable fieldworkers who arrived later. They ordered and paid politely, kept their conversations quiet and respectful, and did not talk Gemma's ear off when she brought them their drinks. Best of all, the early birds never complained about the jukebox games Gemma and Avery improvised to liven up their work hours.

    As a well-dressed couple left their table, the jukebox switched songs to an aggressive drum riff. "Hear that?" Avery called from behind the bar, grinning with a clutch of nectar-stained glasses in her hands. "'Fuckerclust' by Balloon Zoo. You know what that means."

    Gemma moved to check the current track, though Avery had proven her mastery of the jukebox's song list many times over. "You're kidding. Already?"

    "Hell yeah already! I can cross off 'Curse Word Title', and you can call that bingo." Digging a paper slip out of her back pocket, Avery made a spectacle of marking her final square. She slapped the paper onto the bar and set a shot glass filled with murky liquid next to it, tapping a single fingernail against the vessel. "Nice knowing you, loser."

    "You want me to drink this just before the rush comes? It's like you're trying to get me fired," Gemma said as she stared into the shot's swirling, jet-black storm clouds. Only Iris knew what she mixed into the lone bottle in her backroom cupboard, and imagining the ingredients list alone was enough for Gemma to push the glass aside. "How about I skip the shot, and you ask me a question instead?"

    With a shake of her head, Avery returned the shot to its shelf below the counter. "Sounds like wussing out, but sure, I'll bite," she said, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. "Anything off-limits?"

    The front door swung open, and new strings sounded in the pub's harmony of pleasant conversation. "You can't ask me to down the drink," Gemma answered with a courteous wave at the incoming customers. She leaned over the counter, her hand resting on her heart. "For anything else, I'm an open book."

    "Bold move, Gem. You must really want to dodge that shot." Rocking her head in thought, Avery rounded the bar and fell backwards onto the stool beside Gemma. Her feet bounced to the jukebox's beat, and her eyes remained shut until blazing stars of inspiration showered through their green skies. "Ever hooked up with a girl before?"

    "That's what you're asking?" Gemma asked, and the impish smirk on Avery's face silently reiterated the girl's question. "Yes, I have. Guys too, in case you were wondering."

    "Knew it," Avery said, leaning close to Gemma's side. A faint wave of lamplight fell from above to reveal a delicate sheen spread over the side of her face. "So, spill. You with anybody? Looking to hook up? With somebody and looking anyway?"

    Pangs of guilt pulsed through Gemma's gut, all her past break-ups and breakdowns returning in one shot of dubious liquor. "No, there isn't anybody," she began as the last painful wince raked along her nerves. "I learned pretty quickly that relationships and moving around all the time don't mix."

    Casting a retreating glance at her boots, Avery occupied her hands by fiddling with her shirt's sleeves. "That sucks," she replied, stilling her rhythmic tapping and taking a breath of the hot, syrupy air. "Their loss. You're sweet as hell."

    Tingling waves thrilled the surface of Gemma's skin, their warmth undeterred by the draught through the front door's slight opening. "Thanks, Vee," she said, drifting closer to Avery's entranced emerald eyes until her softest whisper pierced the pub's gossamer-light atmosphere. "Guess their loss is your gain."

    Avery's breath hitched, and soft ripples unfurled through her eyes. Her lips twitched with the echoes of words she could not utter, leaving a stunned vacuum for a feverish flush to erupt across her cheeks.

    "It's getting busy in here. I'll go see if anyone needs anything," Gemma said as she pulled away and hopped out of her seat. Before she parted, she tapped Avery's leg with her foot and snapped a wink into her eyes. "Bye for now."

    A slow, chuckling shake of her head was the only response Avery mustered.

    Eager sparks of yellowed lamplight flared over the town's rain-soaked streets, flashing into sight just in time to greet the first members of the evening rush. The gentle conversations rose to a chattering peak, and as if summoned by the stomp of newly arrived feet, Iris descended to take over the bar. No matter how many barstools filled up, she tamed the swelling crowd with swift, effortless prowess.

    As Gemma caught her breath between drinks deliveries, a familiar flash of tan fabric appeared in the doorway. "Wow. This place got busy fast," Nathan said while passing the bustling bar. "I knew I should've driven the whole way."

    "Jake might've jumped at any chance to ride that bike, but you're not getting me on there," Elizabeth answered, making a beeline for Gemma with a wave to Iris behind the counter. "Hi, Gemma. I don't suppose you have room for us, do you?"

    "There are some free tables in the back, as long as you don't mind Vee's choice of music," Gemma said with a cursory glance over her shoulder. She narrowed her eyes at Elizabeth's overalls, their rosy denim and fine floral decorations clashing with the bland brown and olive tones of the other customers' work clothes. "I feel like I haven't seen you on my shifts before. Do you stop by a lot?"

    Adjusting her obsidian-rimmed glasses, Elizabeth shifted her weight between her legs. "Jake and I used to visit a few nights a week," she said, and she flashed a faint smile between her friends before tugging on Nathan's jacket sleeve. "I haven't felt like it since...you know, but this one somehow managed to persuade me tonight."

    Nathan raised his hands, chuckles scurrying from his beaming face. "I can't take all the credit, not after seeing how many stitches you lost in your scarf," he replied, and small curls of mischief appeared in his smile. "And here I thought knitting was supposed to be relaxing."

    "It is," Elizabeth huffed. "Emphasis on 'supposed to be'."

    A nearby table called for another round of drinks, and Gemma left the pair to find seats. Taking an empty glass in either hand, she recounted their order to Iris as she dropped the used vessels off. "How am I doing, boss?" she asked, admiring Iris' keen pint-pouring skills.

    "Looking for a pat on the back already, are you?" Iris countered with a deep sigh. Though she raised her eyebrow at Gemma across the bar, she stopped the tap's flow of liquid gold right at the brim of her glass. "You're a decent worker, at least when you're not too busy wagging chins. Folk seem to like you well enough, too."

    "Do they?" Dancing joy seized hold of the corners of Gemma's lips, lifting them into a smile. "They've said they like me?"

    Iris snorted as she set the fresh drinks on a serving tray. "No, but you'd know about it if they didn't."

    The slam of hand on wood tore through the weave of amiable conversation, and Iris flapped her arms in frustration. "Go and see what's going on now," she groaned, scowling at the rear seating area where the noise originated. She snapped her fingers as she rounded the counter to take the tray. "If it's a drunk, let me handle it. Some of this lot get gobby when they're swilling in it."

    Creaking floorboards, tinkling glasses, and bated, fermented breaths mingled in the air. A wall of humid heat hit Gemma's face as she moved between the tables, and a thin layer of anxious sweat welded her shirt to her back. Violent shudders rumbled through her joints from the jukebox's bass.

    "Don't dodge the question!" Nadine's voice triumphed over the crowd, as did her palm's strike against the booth's table. Seated on either side of her, Nathan and Elizabeth's dizzied shock stopped fear from clouding their faces. "I was on duty all night. Nobody came anywhere near the place after you."

    "Like I said, I don't know what you're talking about," Nathan said, hardening his voice and furrowing his brow. "I wanted to tell you about the bird nest, that's all. Around here, we try to look after our environment."

    A loud scoff ripped from Nadine's throat. "Spare me the nice guy act. I'm not falling for it again," she snapped, whipping a stray braid out of her eyes as she seized Nathan by his shirt collar. "Where's the card?"

    With violent tugs, Nadine threatened to pull Nathan out of the booth. Gemma rushed over the room's battered floorboards, clamping her hand around the woman's wrist. Surprise and sheer force broke Nadine's hold on Nathan, and she glared at Gemma as she staggered backwards.

    Anger pressed its thorns into Gemma's heart. It urged her to unleash her frustration on Nadine, to hurt the woman like she had been hurt by losing Jacob, being blocked from finding answers, and seeing her friends targeted for her actions. Silverlake had a lot to answer for, and so did Nadine.

    Yet Gemma did not give in to the impulse. Salved by the calm waters stored in Nathan's eyes, she steadied her heaving breaths and returned Nadine's piercing gaze. "What do you want?"

    "Don't play dumb. You know what I'm talking about," Nadine said, sneering and clenching her fists at Gemma's defiance. She strode forward as she spoke, and a nearby skewed table wobbled to the rhythm of her heavy steps. "I was checking the main computer earlier. Somehow, in the last twenty-four hours, Jacob's ID card was used twice. Pretty strange behaviour from a dead guy."

    "Watch it, asshole. That guy had friends and family," Gemma retorted, digging into her spot. Though the woman's imposing presence robbed the room's air, it failed to leave a mark on Gemma's awakened, unyielding anger. "Not that you care. All you want is to shut us all up and forget about Jacob. You wouldn't even pick up the damn phone when we called!"

    All eyes in the room pivoted to Nadine, and she recoiled under the weight of the crowd's attention. "When who called?" she asked as crooked lines etched their way across her brow. "I haven't had any support calls. I'd have answered them if I had – Jacob was one of our best."

    "Stop lying!" Gemma shrieked, shoving Nadine back. A dark picture frame tumbled from the wall as the woman landed, and its watercolour rural landscape split apart in a shower of crunched glass shards. Gemma saw the mess, then Nadine, then the boundless sea of glassy-eyed shock. Their merciless silence struck her gut like a hammer.

    Seconds ticked by, yet Gemma's heart pounded with enough power to grind the world to a halt. "I've had it," she muttered suddenly, the words coming as naturally as breathing. "I'm tired of Silverlake burying its bullshit. I'm tired of having to fight for every scrap of truth. I'm tired of everybody around here telling me my brother was this super great guy when he was nothing but a huge fucking asshole!"

    "Hey, Gem, let's just back up and –"

    "Get the fuck off me!" Soft, shaken syllables crept over Gemma's shoulder to her ear, and a tentative touch crossed the scorching current that surged through her body. She swung around and lashed out at the voice's source, her knuckles cracking against defenceless bone. Pain wracked her hand as Nathan collapsed into his booth table.

    The pub slumped into shock. From all corners of the room, nothing but pale, morbid horror looked back at Gemma through the thick, muggy air. She forced her eyelids to shut again and again, yet the scene never changed. Nathan wiped at the dazed fog clouding his vision, Elizabeth inspected the bruise that already announced its coming around his left eye socket, and everybody else sat still, petrified. The only exception was Avery darting around the corner, legs quaking to the jukebox's hollow sound, and rushing to Nathan's side.

    Rushing right past Gemma.

    Spinning, gasping, Gemma stumbled between the tables to the front door. Even in the street's lamp-pierced gloom, the crowd's faces hovered before her, flanking Jacob's ever-watching, ever-judging ghost. He seemed so solid, so real until she reached through his fading chest.

    She's more broken than her swine brother was.

    The townspeople plied her with fun, free anecdotes about Jacob like happy hour cocktails. Pitched against the film reels they had crafted with her brother, her pitifully thin photo album of memories barely cracked its spine.

    There's nowhere for her here.

    Splintered claws ripped at the raw flesh of her throat, every drop of blackened blood they drew feeding her pained sobs. She knew the look the townspeople wore. She had seen it too many times between foster homes to forget it. It told her that she did not belong. It told her that she would never belong. It told her that they were afraid of her.

    I'm not some fucked-up psycho bitch.

    I'm not some fucked-up psycho bitch.

    I'm not.

    I swear.

    "Don't worry, he's fine." The voice's breeze swept beneath Gemma's spiralling thoughts, carrying them to an unseen sliver of safe ground. Behind her, Nadine stood several paces away, her arms folded. "But not just anybody can drop a seasoned six-foot farmhand in one punch, even with surprise on their side. You've done that before."

    "Only when I had to," Gemma said, clutching her stinging knuckles to her chest. At some point, she had fled from outside the pub and made it as far as Elizabeth's bookshop before collapsing to her knees. The silken, soothing blooms that fronted the store cushioned her weary senses as she rose to her feet. "And other kids made sure I had to – a lot. They liked to go after loner kids like me."

    "I'm sure they did," Nadine muttered with a hint of vanishing sympathy. In an instant, her heart's well dried to leave behind a thick layer of sour dust. "I'll cut to the chase. What you said about Silverlake burying things – Jacob told me something similar. No details, though."

    Leaves of revived curiosity unfurled to swaddle Gemma's fractured heart. "He told you about the cameras?" she asked, and Nadine's narrowing eyes provided a much-needed invitation to untangle the threads that knotted in her mind. "Jacob was monitoring a bunch of Silverlake cameras around town, and he saved hours of footage to his own flash drive."

    For the first time, Nadine visibly flinched. "Those cameras aren't us. We've never had permission to set anything up in town, let alone a full surveillance network," she said, sailing into a steady pace over the paving slabs. She extended a finger between turns to pin Gemma to the spot. "And you know this because you're the one using Jacob's ID lately, I take it."

    "I didn't hear you giving me any answers, so I went looking for them myself," Gemma snipped as she pressed her fists into her hips. "I saw his van at the Cox estate, too. It was a dump inside, like he'd been sleeping in there for days. Jacob didn't tell you anything about that, did he?"

    "No, never." Nadine threw her eyes to the sky and held them there, the shifting weight of her thoughts rocking her head from side to side. Her shoulders dropped, and she ran a hand over her tired eyes. "Listen: keep the drive and whatever else you have. I can hold the suits off, but work fast. When the police show up, Silverlake will make sure this whole thing disappears. They always do."

    Gemma expected Nadine's face to twist with insincerity, only for the woman's thin lines to remain still. "Shouldn't you be trying to stop me or something? They'd probably fire you for this."

    With a low grunt, Nadine flared her nostrils. "I might work for Silverlake, but I think for myself. I'm not taking the fall for somebody else's crap," she said as she crossed to Gemma's side, burying a firm finger in the girl's shoulder. "If your brother died over this, then it's worth finishing. So, stop running and finish it."

    Dull aches rolled through Gemma's skin, yet a buried truth stirred in the spaces between the throbs. Jacob's death, so seismic and destructive for her, had barely disturbed the thrashing of the world's wild seas. Diving after her brother had pulled her into currents that surged far beyond her sight, all while spreading her heart's black, overflowing waters across every inch of her battered body. There were no safe shallows to swim towards, and there was no hope of fighting against the streams. To survive, she needed to follow them to their ends.

    She needed to stop herself sinking. She needed to hope that she had not lost her only chance to let go.