Richville

In the ominous hush of Richville's moonlit streets, pandemonium erupted on that fateful evening. The shrill, piercing wails of police sirens shattered the tranquility, sending shockwaves reverberating through the neighborhood. One solitary gunshot, like a sinister omen, shattered the stillness, heralding a night of unrelenting darkness.

As the police vehicles converged on the scene, their crimson and blue lights cast eerie, ever-shifting shadows. Illuminated by the flashing lights, the tableau that unfolded before them was nothing short of macabre-a lifeless body sprawled on the unforgiving pavement. It was none other than Nate, a notorious 18-year-old student of Richville High.

Chaos and commotion gripped the crime scene, as the police officers struggled to maintain a semblance of order among the gawking, anxious crowd. Amid the tumult, the sheriff and the seasoned investigator knelt beside Nate's lifeless form, their expressions etched with grim determination.

After a meticulous examination, the investigator delivered his chilling verdict-a fatal bullet piercing Nate's heart. As they whispered among themselves, the scene took a sinister turn. A frantic policeman rushed over, bearing yet another startling revelation. A hit-and-run incident had unfolded only blocks away, adding an unsettling layer of complexity to the already enigmatic night.

"Find out how these two horrors are intertwined; my gut tells me they are," the sheriff ordered the officer, his voice heavy with foreboding.

"Sir," the officer saluted and departed into the murky night.

The sheriff was haunted by an ominous premonition. Richville, a haven of tranquility with an almost non-existent crime rate, had been thrust into a nightmarish abyss. He sensed that the horrors of that night were merely the harbinger of something far more sinister, lurking in the shadows.

***

Beyond the witching hour on a desolate Saturday morning, Damon found himself ensnared in a restless slumber, tormented by the events of the previous night. Nate, his fellow student at Richville High, had been a tyrant, and Damon couldn't shake the nagging suspicion that someone within their school's walls held the key to his violent demise.

A series of knocks on his bedroom door jolted him from his grim reverie.

*Knock, knock.*

His mother's persistent summons finally coerced him from the clutches of sleep. Damon awoke, his neck aching from an unnatural contortion.

"Is he trying to strangle himself in his sleep?" she mumbled in bewilderment.

"Hey, sluggard, rise and shine!" she declared, clapping her hands above his head. Startled, Damon sat up abruptly, a sharp pain coursing through his neck.

"Ouch!" he cried out, rubbing the sore spot.

"That's the price you pay for sleeping like the dead," she scolded, taking a seat on his bed.

"When did you get back?" Damon inquired. His mother, a tireless doctor at Richville Medical Hospital, often bore the weight of exhausting shifts, leaving little time for her family.

"6:00 AM," she replied. "I had planned for you to pick up the laundry, but since you were in a coma of your own, I prepared breakfast and stashed it in the fridge. I'll be off to work in 30 minutes."

"Mom, you just returned, and you're leaving again?" Damon questioned, his disappointment evident.

"There was a hit-and-run incident last night. I need to check on the patient. We managed to save her, but she lost a staggering amount of blood and is now in a coma," she explained.

"Whatever," Damon muttered, his tone laced with bitterness. His mother understood the frustration her job instilled in him, but she also cherished the understanding that flowed between them.

"Hey, don't be mad, okay? I promise I'll be home tonight," she tried to console him. Damon managed a reluctant smile.

However, her gaze fell upon some papers beside his pillow, and curiosity got the best of her. She picked up the papers and began to read. It was Damon's analysis of the previous night's events.

"Damon, what is this?" she demanded, her voice tinged with anger.

Damon hastily retrieved the papers, concealing them in his drawer. He turned back to his mother, attempting to downplay their significance.

"It's nothing, Mom. Just some thoughts about last night, that's all," he replied casually. "I was brainstorming, you know, putting together a list of what might have led to the events last night."

"Are you out of your mind? What are you, Sherlock Holmes?" his mother exploded. "This isn't a missing pet case; this is murder, a gunshot, and it might even involve a gang riot!"

Damon had never witnessed his mother so agitated. She had risen from the bed and was now berating him.

"Mom, please, just hear me out. I knew Nate from school, and he was a bully. It seems like an open-and-shut case," Damon tried to explain.

"Listen to me carefully," his mother interrupted sternly. "There will be no 'finding out who.' Let the police do their job. Is that clear?"

Damon attempted to argue further, but his mother's unyielding resolve silenced him.

"Have I made myself clear?" she demanded.

"Yes, Mom," Damon relented, realizing that his pursuit of the truth wouldn't be as straightforward as he had envisioned. "I better go get that laundry." With that, he left his mother, alone with the secrets of the night.

***

Abigail descended the creaking staircase, her father's weary voice echoing ominously through the house as he engaged in a somber phone call. The weight of the previous night's case was palpable in his voice, and Abigail couldn't help but feel a shiver of dread. She entered her father's dimly lit home office, prompting him to conclude his call hastily. He didn't want his daughter to bear the burden of his worries.

"Are you okay, Dad?" she asked, taking a seat before his desk.

"I'm fine, sweetheart. Don't concern yourself," he reassured her, though his eyes betrayed his fatigue.

"You look exhausted and troubled, Dad. You need to rest," she insisted.

Oliver sighed, explaining, "Nate was the son of one of the town's founding families. If I step back now, they might strip me of my position."

"But you're from a founding family too, Dad. Don't you have any influence?" Abigail inquired.

"It's not that simple, darling. They could unite against me and decide to replace me. Besides, when I took the oath as sheriff, I vowed to protect this town and seek justice for the wronged," Oliver explained. Just then, a series of knocks interrupted their conversation. Oliver signaled for Abigail to answer the door. She opened it to find Damon standing there, a faint smile on his face.

"Hi," he greeted.

"Hi, Damon. What brings you here?" Abigail inquired.

Damon hesitated for a moment before replying, "Well, I thought we were supposed to study for our Monday tests. Did you forget?"

"No, it's just that my dad's going through a tough time, and he might need my help with this case, so I want to assist him," Abigail replied as she let Damon inside. They walked through the dimly lit corridor towards her father's office, engaged in a hushed conversation about Nate.

"You know," Damon began, "Nate didn't exactly win any popularity contests. He was a bully, and many kids at school despised him."

Abigail nodded in agreement, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's true. He tormented so many of his classmates. But even so, does that mean he deserved to die like this?"

Damon pondered her question before replying, "No one deserves this, Abigail. But sometimes, when you push people too far, they snap. Maybe one of the kids he bullied got angry enough to pull the trigger."

Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by a stern voice from behind them. "What do you know about Nate?"

Startled, Abigail and Damon turned to find Mr. Oliver standing in the doorway of his office, his expression a mix of curiosity and suspicion. Damon knew he had piqued the sheriff's interest, and now he had to share what he knew about Nate.

Damon knew this was his chance to bring what he knew to light without directly getting involved.

*****

In the dimly lit chamber of Richville's Town Hall, a clandestine gathering unfolded. Mayor Samuel Grant, an influential figure himself, had summoned the town's nine founding families to discuss a grim matter-the untimely death of Nate. The air was thick with tension, and shadows danced ominously on the wood-paneled walls.

The chamber filled with a silent anticipation as the town's most prominent figures took their seats, some accompanied by their partners. Here, in the heart of Richville, power lay not only in numbers but in old alliances forged through generations.

Mayor Samuel Grant, his poise unwavering, surveyed the assembly. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us on this solemn occasion."

As he spoke, the spotlight of attention fell upon the families in attendance:

The Grants, with Mayor Samuel and his wife, Roberta.

The Harringtons, led by Lucas Harrington and his wife, Margaret.

The Worthingtons, represented by Charles Worthington and his wife, Eleanor.

The Prestons, with Edward Preston and his wife, Victoria.

The Hamiltons, Thomas Hamilton and his wife, Catherine.

The Carters, William Carter and his wife, Isabella.

The Parkers, Richard Parker and his wife, Sarah.

The Andersons, John Anderson and his wife, Elizabeth.

The Spencers, where Henry Spencer sat as a somber widower.

In the midst of this assembly, the weight of responsibility fell squarely upon Sheriff Oliver, a member of one of the founding families himself. The families directed their discussion towards him, their questions relentless.

"What have you discovered about Nate's death, Oliver?" Margaret Harrington's voice was sharp.

The questions continued, aimed squarely at Sheriff Oliver:

"Why hasn't an arrest been made?"

"Do you have any leads?"

"Is our town safe with a killer on the loose?"

Only the mayor backed the sheriff. As the questions mounted, Sheriff Oliver could feel his patience wearing thin. Finally, he snapped, his voice cutting through the room like a whip.

"Have any of you ever been in my position? Could you have solved a murder in under 24 hours?!" Sheriff Oliver's frustration boiled over as he confronted the relentless questions from the founding families.

In response to the sheriff's outburst, Mayor Samuel Grant rose from his seat, his voice resonating with authority and frustration. "Ladies and gentlemen, I want to make it abundantly clear that Sheriff Oliver and the entire police department have been tirelessly working on this case since the moment it happened. They have not rested, and they will not rest until the killer is brought to justice."

The mayor's impassioned speech hung heavily in the air, a reminder that the town's law enforcement was committed to resolving the grim puzzle that had gripped Richville. The founding families, though skeptical, could not deny the dedication displayed by the sheriff and his team in their pursuit of the elusive murderer.

But among the families, the Hamiltons, grieving parents of Nate, stood out. Their frustration boiled over as they relentlessly bashed the sheriff, accusing him of incompetence and ineffectiveness. Catherine Hamilton, Nate's mother, ranted like a woman possessed by grief. Her husband, Thomas Hamilton, attempted to calm her, but his efforts seemed in vain.

"The sheriff doesn't know how to do his job!" Catherine Hamilton's voice cracked with anguish as she berated Sheriff Oliver. "Our son is dead, and he's here making excuses! We want justice!"

Sheriff Oliver, though battered by their accusations, couldn't help but think about what he would do if he were in their shoes. He imagined the pain of losing his own child, brutally murdered and left on the streets. It sent a shiver down his spine, and he knew that he would stop at nothing to bring the killer to justice. It was a haunting thought that fueled his determination to solve this case, not just for the town but for the grieving parents who deserved answers and closure.

After a series of misunderstandings, heated exchanges, and, eventually, some semblance of agreement, the tension-filled meeting at Richville's Town Hall finally came to an end. The founding families, though still skeptical, realized that Sheriff Oliver and his team were doing all they could to solve the tragic puzzle that had befallen their town.

As the meeting concluded, the families dispersed, each returning to their respective lives and responsibilities. The weight of the unresolved murder case hung over Richville like a dark cloud.

********

Sheriff Oliver entered the hospital with a sense of purpose. He knew that visiting the injured girl, the victim of the hit-and-run incident, could provide crucial information. As he reached her ward, an unexpected sight greeted him. Damon's mom was already there, engaged in conversation with two individuals who wore expressions of deep concern.

The sheriff discreetly observed the faces of the two people beside the girl's bed and recognized the unmistakable signs of grief and sadness. It was evident that they were the injured girl's parents. This unexpected encounter presented an opportunity for Sheriff Oliver to begin his questioning and gather valuable insights into the hit-and-run incident.

"Laura" He called Damon's mom.

Laura observed Sheriff Oliver standing at the door of the hospital room and excused herself from the conversation with the girl's parents. She walked over to the sheriff, who looked determined to speak with the parents.

"Sheriff, I understand your job, but please, not now," Laura implored, her voice filled with empathy. "They're still in deep grief, and it's not the right time."

Sheriff Oliver nodded, acknowledging her concern. "I apologize for interrupting. I just wanted to have a word with the girl's parents."

Laura could see the conflict in the sheriff's eyes, torn between duty and compassion. She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "I know you're doing your best, but give them some time. They'll be more cooperative when they've had a chance to process this."

Before their discussion could escalate further, Mr. James, the girl's father, intervened. He stepped forward, his voice carrying a heavy burden of sorrow, and said, "Sheriff, I'll answer any questions you have. We want to help in any way we can to bring justice for our daughter."

Sheriff Oliver respected Mr. James' willingness to cooperate, especially considering the grief that engulfed the room. They began discussing the hit-and-run incident, keeping in mind that while it hadn't been proven to be connected to Nate's murder, the circumstances raised suspicion.

Sheriff Oliver sat down with Mr. James, a heavy silence hanging in the room. "Mr. James, I understand this is a difficult time for your family, and I appreciate your willingness to help. I just have a few questions to understand what happened that night."

Mr. James nodded, his eyes filled with sorrow.

"First, can you tell me if your daughter remembers anything about the incident? Any details, no matter how small, could be crucial."

Mr. James sighed, his gaze distant. "She hasn't regained consciousness since the accident. The doctors are doing everything they can, but we're waiting for her to wake up."

Sheriff Oliver nodded in understanding. "I see. I hope she recovers soon. Can you tell me what you know about her activities that night? Was she alone, or was she with someone?"

"We were at home," Mr. James explained. "She had been studying for her tests and said she was going out to get some fresh air. We didn't know she had left until we got the call about the accident."

The sheriff noted down the information. "Thank you for sharing that. Now, do you have any idea why someone might have targeted her? Any conflicts or issues she might have been involved in recently?"

Mr. James shook his head. "She's a good student, keeps to herself. We can't think of anyone who would want to hurt her."

Sheriff Oliver understood the grieving father's concern. "I appreciate your cooperation, Mr. James. We'll do everything we can to find out who did this. If you remember anything or if your daughter wakes up and recalls anything, please don't hesitate to contact us."

As the conversation ended, Sheriff Oliver gathered valuable information that might aid in the investigation of the hit-and-run incident, holding onto the hope that the girl's recovery would bring more answers to light.

In the midst of their conversation, Sheriff Oliver couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the story. It seemed too much of a coincidence that both events had occurred on the same night and in the same neighborhood. It was as if someone had orchestrated these tragedies with a sinister intent, and the sheriff hoped that when the injured girl woke up, she would provide crucial information that might shed light on the interconnected web of mysteries surrounding that fateful night.

********

Damon was in his room studying for his tests when he got a video call from his best friend Fortune. Fortune asked what he was doing, to which he replied that he was studying. Then Fortune urged him to check his inbox. Apparently, a classmate of theirs, Alex, had sent an invitation to some of everyone in their class and the entire school's sports team to come to a party at his house. The reason for the celebration was that the swimming team had won the state championship, so Alex decided to throw a big party to celebrate.

RichVille earned its name because it had the highest population of wealthy people in the country living in one town. But Alex's family was next-level rich, and he didn't fail to show it off.

"Nah, hard pass," Damon replied after reading the invitation text.

"You're a fool if you think I'm taking 'no' for an answer," said Fortune.

Damon heard a loud horn and went to check from his window. There, he saw a flashy supercar honking impatiently. It was Fortune, who had already arrived, ready to take him to the party.

"Show off," Damon said to him sarcastically.

"Get dressed, buddy, we're gonna party," Fortune said.

Damon, dressed and ready for the night's festivities, met Fortune and hopped into his car. He reminded Fortune that they needed to be back before 9 pm because he was determined to continue his studies. Fortune chuckled and teasingly replied, "Okay, nerd."

With that, they set off towards Alex's grand celebration. As they arrived at the party, the crowd went wild upon spotting Fortune. He was exceptionally popular, being the captain of the soccer team alongside Alex. Damon, on the other hand, had his own brand of popularity. While he was recognized for his remarkable intelligence and impressive soccer skills, his reserved and gentle personality kept him from being in the spotlight. He was content with a smaller circle of friends, not particularly concerned with the fanfare of popularity.

"Hey, lemme holla at those guys real quick," Fortune told Damon as soon as he spotted a group of guys in a corner of the house, each holding plastic cups and laughing boisterously.

"Go on, I'll just stand and vibe to the music," Damon replied.

"Get yourself something, buddy. I promise I'll be back before you know it," Fortune assured him before making his way to join the group.

Damon observed as Fortune shook hands and joined in their merriment. It made him ponder what Fortune saw in him to consider him his best friend. Their energies didn't exactly match, and Damon often felt like he was a contrast to Fortune's vibrant personality. He wondered if Fortune ever felt like he was forcing himself to be around him.

His gaze returned to Fortune, who was now dancing and chatting with a few girls. Damon couldn't help but chuckle. His friend was a true chick magnet, effortlessly drawing attention wherever he went. Fortune was an attractive young man, tall and athletic, black with striking features that could turn heads. Girls seemed to gravitate toward him with minimal effort, leaving Damon curious about his friend's secret.

With a faint smile, Damon decided to take a stroll around the party. He didn't want to stand there like a mannequin, and perhaps, amid the festivities, he would find his own rhythm for the night.

in one of the many rooms, Alicia sat atops Alex's laps as they both of them made out. The room filled with arousal. He decided to take her clothes off but she stopped him. "What's wrong?" Alex asked as Alicia pulled away from their heated kiss, concern in his eyes.

She placed her hands around his neck and began to speak, her tone serious. "Look, I've been thinking, we like each other, right? Why haven't we started dating yet?" This was a conversation Alex wasn't quite prepared for.

Alex hesitated for a moment before responding, "We don't need to be in any official relationship, Alicia. I mean, we like each other, and that's all that matters."

Alicia, however, wasn't easily dissuaded. "You know all we do is make out all the time, and pretty much the whole school thinks we're dating. Why not make it official? I've given this a lot of thought."

Alex, sensing that perhaps others had influenced her decision, cautiously asked, "Did your friends put you up to this?"

Alicia's anger flared at the question. Did he think she was incapable of making her own decisions? "Do you think I'm stupid and incapable of thinking for myself?"

Panicking slightly, Alex tried to clarify, "What? No, I didn't mean it like that."

Alicia was frustrated and hurt. "That's exactly what you just implied. I can see that you're using me, and now you're saying I can't think for myself?"

Feeling overwhelmed by the intensity of the situation and the emotions in the room, Alex struggled to find the right words. "Alicia, I'm dealing with a lot right now, okay? Let's talk about this when we're done with the party."

But Alicia had already made up her mind. She stood up, grabbed her bag, and declared, "How about we forget about each other and accept that this was a mistake?"

With those words, she left the room, ignoring Alex's attempts to call after her.

As she got out of the room, Alicia bumped into Damon, who noticed her sad expression and asked what happened. She brushed him off, saying, "Not now, Damon," and continued on her way.

Alex emerged from the room shortly after, and Damon couldn't help but inquire, "What did you say to her?"

"Party's downstairs, D. This place is off-limits," Alex replied curtly, leaving Damon with unanswered questions as he too walked away.

Damon decided to put the matter aside for now and joined the party downstairs, leaving the tension of the previous conversation behind him.

The booming music reverberated through the backyard, where everyone was dancing and cheering, fully immersed in the lively atmosphere. Damon, however, sat beside the pool, his eyes scanning the surroundings, ever vigilant for anything unusual. He had a penchant for suspicion, always on the lookout for anyone not acting as they should.

His trance was interrupted when Abigail settled down beside him. She greeted him with a warm smile. "Hey, stranger," she said.

Damon turned to her, his curiosity piqued. "Why aren't you partying like the rest of them?" he inquired.

Abigail deftly redirected the question back at him. "Well, I could ask you the same."

Damon shrugged, leaning back a bit. "You know that's not my thing. I'd rather be on my couch playing video games right now."

Abigail let out a sigh, her gaze fixed on the partygoers. "Well, I'd rather be beside my dad, telling him that everything's going to be okay and that this killer is going to be found."

Damon raised an eyebrow. "Why aren't you doing that right now?"

"Because my dad went to the hospital to visit the girl who was hit," Abigail explained. She sighed, her frustration evident. "You know, it's so bad that two events happened in one night, and only one was talked about just because he was privileged."

The disparity in the attention and coverage between Nate's death and the hit and run that occurred simultaneously weighed heavily on Abigail's mind, leaving her perplexed and discontented with the way things were being handled.

Damon couldn't help but let his curiosity get the best of him. Abigail had always been seen with her boyfriend, and today was an exception. He had to ask. "Where's your boyfriend? You two are practically inseparable," he inquired.

Abigail's response was filled with uncertainty. "He said he had some things to take care of," she replied. Her eyebrows furrowed as she continued, "But honestly, Damon, he's been acting really weird today. Getting upset over the smallest stuff, leaving me on 'read.' I only got his reply after I got to the party."

Damon shook his head, feeling puzzled. "That does sound strange. I hope everything's alright between you two."

Abigail shrugged, her eyes wandering over the crowd. "I don't know, Damon. It's been a weird day."

Their conversation hung in the air, both of them unaware of the unexpected turn of events that would soon unfold.

As they talked, Abigail couldn't resist teasing Damon about his long-lasting crush on Alicia. "You know, we all see it, Damon. You've been into Alicia for six years now? That's dedication."

Damon chuckled, attempting to brush off the topic. "Well, whatever feelings I had for her are in the past. I'm over it."

Abigail, with a playful grin, prodded further, "Are you sure about that?"

Just as Damon was about to respond, Alex abruptly grabbed him by the shirt, disrupting their conversation. Abigail stood up, her surprise evident. "What's going on?" she asked, her voice filled with curiosity.

With a frustrated tone, Alex accused Damon, "You really can't keep your mouth shut, can you? Tell her how you snitched."

A small crowd began to form around them, their struggle drawing attention. The music ceased, and more partygoers gathered, curious about the commotion.

Damon tried to defuse the situation calmly. "I don't know what you're talking about. Now, if you don't mind, please let go of my shirt."

Alex, however, remained defiant. "Why would I do that?"

Alicia managed to push her way through the crowd, her face reflecting her confusion. "What's happening here?"

Alex turned to Alicia with an accusation. "Isn't it nice that you're here, Alicia? Damon was in your DMs, saying how much of a jerk I am and that you should stop hanging out with me."

The crowd looked at Damon in surprise, waiting for an explanation. Alicia, equally surprised, questioned Alex, "Did you go through my phone?"

Damon couldn't provide an answer before Alex punched him. The onlookers cleared space, and Damon stumbled but quickly regained his balance. He attempted to retaliate, launching a punch of his own, but Alex seized his arm and used his strength to pull him aside.

Unexpectedly, a forceful blow landed on Alex, sending him tumbling into the swimming pool. Fortune stood there, watching Alex regain his footing in the water.

Amid the commotion, Alex shouted angrily, "Both of you get out of my house now!"

The party atmosphere had taken an abrupt turn, leaving those in attendance in a state of shock and confusion.

Fortune extended a hand to help Damon up, and together, they made their exit from the chaotic scene. Abigail, along with a few others who disapproved of the situation, decided to leave as well. Alicia retrieved her phone from where it had fallen during the scuffle. She shook her head, clearly disappointed. "That's a low blow, Alex," she muttered, her voice reflecting her disapproval. She left the party, leaving Alex to climb out of the pool.

Undeterred by the tension that had momentarily gripped his celebration, Alex headed straight for the DJ's table. Realizing the party was losing its momentum, he took hold of the microphone, determined to revive the atmosphere. "Let's get this party back on track, people!" he exclaimed.

With renewed enthusiasm, the crowd responded with shouts and cheers, and the party resumed in full swing.

******

As they drove through the streets, Fortune felt guilty for dragging Damon to the party. He apologized a few times, and Damon told him not to worry about it. If he hadn't messaged Alicia about Alex being a jerk, they wouldn't have ended up in that embarrassing situation. The conversation gradually shifted to jokes about the fight and what they might have done if it had gone on longer.

Suddenly, a gust of wind swept through the car, prompting Fortune to reach for the window controls. However, Damon stopped him, urging him to pull over. "Look," Damon said, his gaze focused outside. Fortune was puzzled, wondering what Damon had spotted. "Look at what?" he asked. Damon continued to stare at the roadside, which appeared to be covered in grass and bushes. Fortune thought he might be seeing something unusual.

"Look closely," Damon insisted.

Fortune followed his gaze, and that's when he noticed it too-something flashing beneath the tall grass. Damon made up his mind to investigate. Concerned about potential trouble, Fortune hesitated, saying, "Wait, this is the same place where Diana was hit. Shouldn't we avoid getting into any trouble?"

Damon replied confidently, "Trouble from who?" He exited the car, and Fortune, determined not to let anyone come to harm, followed closely behind. They approached the source of the flashing, and to their surprise, they discovered a vibrating phone hidden in the grass. Damon picked it up with enthusiasm.

"It's Diana's phone," he exclaimed. "Shouldn't we turn it over to the police?" Fortune suggested.

Damon nodded in agreement. "Yes, but not before I've had a look at it."

The phone continued to vibrate and flash, drawing their attention to a startling notification that appeared on the screen. Damon read it aloud with a hint of disbelief, "Business with Danny?"

Fortune was taken aback. "Danny, as in Abby's boyfriend?" he asked.

"I hope not," Damon replied.

They decided to return to the car and further investigate the phone once they arrived home.

As they reached Damon's room, they started to go through the phone's notifications, unable to unlock it. Among the notifications were missed calls from Danny, and most of them were from him.

"What kind of business does Danny have with this girl?" Fortune asked.

"I don't know, but he was the last person to call her before her accident. It's possible that he called her out so he could hit her with the car," Damon speculated.

"Really, bro? Can't you suggest anything better? It's Abby's boyfriend we're talking about here, our teammate," Fortune said.

"Yes, but we can't ignore the facts here. This reminder that says 'business with Danny' has been going off for two days, always at 7:30 pm. So maybe they both planned to kill Nate, and Danny hit her just to cover his tracks," Damon said.

"Look, bro, I don't know what you're cooking up, but I want no part in it. Just give the phone to the police and let them do their job. I'm going home," Fortune said before getting up from the bed and leaving. Damon sighed. He felt like he sounded like a crazy person, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right.

After a few minutes of contemplating, he heard his mom's voice from downstairs and decided to go greet her. There, he saw his mom and Sheriff Oliver saying their goodbyes.

"Mom, Sheriff," he said.

"Hey, kiddo," Sheriff Oliver greeted.

"Hi, sweetie," his mom added. "How was work?" Damon asked.

"You know, just the normal," she replied, but she noticed Damon's face, which seemed a bit off. She asked him if everything was okay, and he mentioned finding Dianna's phone. "Sheriff, Fortune and I kinda found Dianna's phone on our way back."

"That's great, son. My officers have been looking for it," the sheriff acknowledged. Damon handed him the phone with a worried expression. He couldn't help but think about what might happen now. He hoped his theory about Danny was wrong, and the police wouldn't come up with the same hypothesis. But then again, he might be worrying for nothing. Abigail had mentioned that Danny had been acting strangely since this morning. What if, during questioning by the police, he accidentally said something he shouldn't?

"What's the matter, kid?" Sheriff Oliver asked as Damon was lost in thought.

"Nothing, I better go sleep. Tomorrow's the big game," Damon replied.

"Ah, I almost forgot about that. Good luck, son," Sheriff Oliver wished him.

"Good night," Damon said and went back to his room, hoping he hadn't made a very big mistake.