Through the Door and Keep Going

Mags and Amy return to Osprey Island — a place they swore they’d never see again — to find that the past hasn’t been waiting quietly.

The island holds answers, but not the kind anyone was hoping for — and not in the shape anyone remembers. The girls are forced to confront a familiar realization: sometimes the most dangerous thing isn’t what you uncover — it’s what changes once you do.

Transcript

Murder Girls is created, written, and produced by Eternal Teenager. Content warning. This episode includes depictions of teens in danger, injury, references to grief and parental loss, parental emotional manipulation and complex family dynamics, corporate malfeasance and environmental crime, trespassing on restricted and or dangerous property, and profanity throughout. Listener discretion is advised.

Previously on Murder Girls.

That cursed video that's going to scar us for life?

Footage from Lily Siaya and her dad. He and Lily were trespassing on Holt land. They saw something they shouldn't have.

And if what's in this video is what we think it is, it's not just trespassing anymore. It's evidence.

Like felony level evidence?

Worse, the kind that gets people killed.

Holy shit, what is that?

They all lean closer, eyes wide, faces lit blue by the screen glow. It's the same look Mags and I had once, the one that says this is real now. And that's when we see her. Minerva fucking Maddox.

Took you long enough.

Minerva, what are you doing here again?

My daughter, she didn't come home last night.

What's her name?

Well, she's going by Pipes now. But her name is Piper.

So, Daniel says they were at Eagles Creek 30 minutes ago.

We're going to Eagles Creek now.

The kids came through earlier with that guy with the mustache. About an hour and a half ago. They were asking about the Holtwood.

And?

And I redirected them.

Where did you send them?

Fern River Monitoring Station. About 10 minutes from here. Public land, not Holtwood. I also mentioned there's an old Threshold site nearby.

Threshold? You mentioned Threshold.

Yeah. Why?

Those kids know about Threshold. They've been digging into corporate stuff, environmental crimes, the originals.

Shit.

Is the site still active?

It shouldn't be, but I've seen activity there. Recent.

They would have gone there. The second you mentioned it, that's where they'd go. We lied to Minerva. Her daughter is missing, and we know more than we're telling her, and we're lying.

Ugh, shit. I know.

We got Daniel involved, and now he's out here babysitting our nemesis while we sneak off to find evidence that her kid trespassed on corporate property. Trespassing to follow a lead that we gave her.

The emergency boat that's kept here, it's gone. Lock's been cut. Oars are missing. And the footprints lead right to where it would have been tied up.

Where would they go in a boat from here?

My eyes had already scanned to the obvious answer, and there it was, looming in the fog, Osprey Island. Well, shit. We need you to take us to Osprey Island on the seahorse.

Excuse me?

I know, I know, but hear me out. How awesome would it be if the maiden voyage of the seahorse was the return to Osprey Island?

Huh? Huh?

Full circle. Poetic. Cinematic even. Murder Girls, episode 14. Through the door and keep going.

The dinghy cuts through fog that shouldn't feel this thick in late afternoon. Natural, Claire says. Pacific Northwest maritime weather. I don't believe in the supernatural anymore, not after we learned the mysterious lights over Osprey Island were just meth dealers calling each other home. But I do believe in patterns, and the pattern says every time we come to this island, something breaks.

So Claire, scale of one to 10, how much do you regret letting us back into your life?

You never left. 16.

Come on, this is kind of exciting though, right? The seahorse's maiden voyage being a rescue mission to Osprey Island? That's like poetic. It's like a callback, a sequel, the return of the revenge of the Murder Girls.

Amy, I love you. But if you finish that sentence, I'm turning this boat around.

Claire's knuckles are white on the tiller. She's been tense since we left the seahorse anchored in deeper water. Not nervous, tactical. Already thinking three moves ahead, probably. Adults think in exits, not entrances. We're still learning that lesson. Amy's trying to lighten the mood because that's what Amy does. Joke until the fear or anger or tension gets bored and leaves. And me, I'm lost in the arithmetic of blame. We gave the weirdos the breadcrumbs. They followed them here. That's not speculation. That's just cause and effect. We handed them pieces of a puzzle we knew was dangerous. And now they've come to an island that's already cost this town too much. I'm not confessing, I'm indicting, there's a difference.

Hey, we're gonna find them.

I know.

We're circling now, slower, searching the coastline for any sign of where they landed. The mainland-facing side of Osprey Island looks the same as it did 10 years ago. Rocky beaches, dense tree line, the smell of salt and rot and cedar.

Wait, Claire, look, that inlet.

I see it.

Tucked into a small inlet between two rocky outcroppings. There it is. The stolen boat from the Fern River Monitoring Station. Intact, hidden badly.

Beached it in a hurry. Look at the angle. Didn't even tie off properly.

We stow the dinghy in a natural cove between rocks, hidden from casual view, accessible for quick departure.

Two sets of footprints. Recent, less than three hours old. Headed inland.

Okay, that's actually really cool. How can you tell?

Tide line, boot treads, and the fact that I've been doing this longer than you've been alive.

We follow Claire inland, moving west and then south. This is the safe side of the island, if any part of Osprey Island can be called safe.

You know, the three of us could totally open a PI service after this. Nichols Park and O'Connell, we find your shit.

Hard pass.

The tracks lead west, then curve south, staying on the eastern side. We've been here before. We landed on a beach not far from here, early summer, 10 years ago. I remember sitting on the sand, eating a triple threat. My invention. Triple decker, peanut butter and jelly. Grape, of course. Architectural marvel of sandwich engineering. I'd packed four of them, carefully wrapped in wax paper, stored in a cooler I'd borrowed from Dee Dee. Amy ate hers like a wild dog. Jelly on her chin, talking with her mouthful about the light sweet scene. How this was it, our big adventure. Maybe aliens, maybe ghosts. Definitely something incredible. She looked at me like I'd invented fire when I told her I'd made the sandwiches myself. Three layers, Mags? That's genius. You're a genius. Boundless energy, endless enthusiasm. My biggest fan for something as simple as stacking bread. I loved her for that. For being amazed by small things as much as large ones. For making me feel like everything I did mattered. We were 12 years old , eating sandwiches on a beach, thinking we were about to solve a mystery. We had no idea what we were walking into. No idea how much danger we were actually in. No idea how naive we were. God, we were just kids. Hold up. Through the trees ahead, an old structure, one we've seen before. A crumbling concrete pad, rusted metal framework, the abandoned shed where the dealers kept their ATVs.

Listen.

Should be getting a clearer signal by now.

I'm trying. Signal keeps jumping.

Val, Piper.

Oh my God. Mags?

Amy?

Yes, it's us. Oh, and this is Claire.

Girls?

Val and Piper stand in the clearing. Tablet in Val's hands. Some kind of scanning device in Piper's. They look exhausted, stressed, but unharmed.

What are you doing here? How did you?

Minerva. Your mom, Piper. She came to us. You haven't checked in with her since yesterday, so.

Shit.

Checking in doesn't exactly clean the slate when you've stolen a boat and disappeared to an island with a history.

We didn't steal it. We borrowed it.

Oh yeah, been there.

And we were going to return it after we got Miles and Walter out.

Out of what?

Where are they? What happened?

They're trapped inside a threshold facility on this island.

And we've been trying to find a way in since we got here, but no luck.

Well, shit.

No time for comfort, no time for context. Just straight into problem-solving writ large. Okay, okay, we can debrief on the move.

No, we need information first. Rushing in blind is how people get hurt.

Are you two okay physically?

We're fine, tired, frustrated, but fine.

Is my mom really worried?

Yeah, she is.

She wanted to come, but we convinced her to let us handle it.

Let's focus. I need a full situation report. Everything you know about the facility, about Miles and Walter's location, about your communication with them, fast.

How long have they been trapped?

For about two, two and a half hours.

And you're sure they're okay?

They're alive. That's the good news.

And the bad?

They can't find a way out.

Okay, let's rewind time. How did they end up in this predicament?

Yesterday afternoon, we went to the Fern River Monitoring Station.

Daniel Siaya told us about it, and he also mentioned that there was an older threshold site there.

And you went to the first place to 100% sneak into the second one?

I mean, obviously.

Respect.

Can we focus, please?

We used drones at first, so we didn't trespass officially. Then we noticed threshold barges being loaded on the river.

Cursed-looking shipping containers. Definitely not park service.

We all climbed the fence.

Then split up into teams of two. Different barges.

Ten minutes, then we were supposed to leave.

But when we left ours, we saw that there were security mooks on their barge. Then it left, with them on it.

Shit.

And it came here.

We scrambled and Piper remembered seeing the boat just hanging there.

So, we improvised.

Nice.

Uh, what kind of facility are we talking about?

That's the problem. We don't know. We haven't been able to get close enough to see it properly. We're not even sure about using drones to help with that.

Good instinct.

From what Miles has been able to tell us, it's not heavily guarded, but they can't see any exits they can use.

And it's impossible to stay in consistent communication here. Battery discipline but also reception is just... buns.

I watch Claire's face. She's doing the math, risk calculations, thinking about all the ways this could go sideways. She looks like she's watching history repeat itself. Better tech, worse intentions, same island.

You said you've been in contact with them?

Some techs. Enough for Miles to tell us they snuck off the barge. They're hiding somewhere inside.

They can't get out the way they got in. It's a water-only access point.

So they're waiting for us to find another way in.

Mags and I are feeling everything at once. Pride, guilt, fear. And underneath all of that, curiosity. That dangerous, familiar pull. The thing that got us here in the first place.

Um, so there's something else.

Say more.

A signal from the CIA video. A weird background frequency buried in the footage from Holtwood. Only detectable when it glitched.

Piper found it and was able to isolate and identify it.

It's some kind of old RFID system.

Like a park ranger cache tracker?

Same idea, but not the same tech. Not exactly, not parks, not regulators. Something deliberately placed. We wanted to look for it at Holtwood when we went there.

But the crazy part is, we're picking it up here too. Same signal, same fingerprint in another restricted area.

Broadcasting from somewhere nearby on the island.

Two restricted sites, both with threshold presence, same signal.

Okay, yeah, that's not coincidence.

Definitely stands out.

How are you tracking it?

I modded an RFID tracker set up with something I coded up. I mean, it's intermittent, but I can triangulate the general area. It's coming from somewhere west of here, deeper inland.

We're thinking up Aerie Peak.

An idea forms, fast, risky. Splitting up never feels good in theory, but sometimes it's the only way to cover ground. What if we, you know, divide our focus?

Amy. Amy.

Oh my God, you guys 100% had that all keyed up for when I had one of my amazing ideas, and I'm so psyched about that. But on a serious note, hear me out. Piper and I follow the signal. See what it leads to. You, Val and Claire focus on getting Miles and Walter out of the facility.

No, absolutely not.

We need everyone on the extraction.

Too fewer people is too fewer chances to get them out safely.

But if the signal leads to something explaining what threshold is doing, that could be leverage.

Or it leads to nothing. A dead end that tells us nothing we can use.

Maybe, but we won't know unless we check.

It splits our resources, and if something goes wrong, something's already wrong.

Two people are trapped inside an illegal corporate facility on restricted Nisika land. The question isn't whether we split up. It's whether we can afford not to know more.

If Amy and Piper track the signal and find something useful, that could help us get Miles and Walter out faster.

I can do this. You know I can.

I know.

New burst from Miles. They moved. Barely. Still no exit route.

That decides it.

You're sure about this? No.

But when are we ever, Chica? When are we ever?

Fair point.

You find the signal source, you report back immediately. You do not engage with anything or anyone you find there. Reconnaissance only. After two hours, you head back to the boat. Understood?

Yes, ma'am.

I'm serious, Amy. This isn't a game.

I know. I get it. Recon only and like all the other boring stuff you mentioned.

Stay out of trouble, Jerky.

Love you.

Yup.

Come on. What?

Why? Move fast, stay in contact, and the second anyone has actionable intel, we regroup.

All right.

See you on the other side.

Valentina, lead the way.

This way. You ready to go? Yeah. One sec. Just need them to get a little further. There. Believe in me. Okay. Let's book. Mags catches my eye as we split. There's something in her expression I can't quite read. Worry, definitely, but also trust. The kind that says, I don't like this, but I believe you can do it. And then we're moving in opposite directions. Piper leads us northwest, deeper inland, toward whatever's been quietly broadcasting from the heart of this island, toward answers we probably won't like, toward something that doesn't care whether we're ready. Airy Peak isn't technically a mountain, it's more like an annoyingly ambitious hill. But it's steep enough to make you regret your life choices, and high enough that the trees thin out as you climb.

Signal's getting stronger. We're definitely heading in the right direction.

That's good.

Great.

Love that journey for us. You okay?

Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I just prefer sea level.

The signal seems to be near the peak, gives it maximum range.

Hey, nice job. You know, figuring out the signal. That's really impressive.

It was accidentally buried in the video. Not meant to be noticed. Could have been interference or corrupted data. But I ran it through different analysis programs and isolated the frequency signature.

That's actually incredibly cool.

It's just pattern recognition. Once you know what to look for, it's obvious.

It's not. You're really good at this. She doesn't know how to take complements that aren't transactional. I recognize that. I lived it differently, but I recognize it.

Um...

So... I should say something.

Okay.

I didn't tell you who my mom was. Not because I was lying. Because I didn't want you to see me and already know how it ends.

Yeah, we don't do guilt by bloodline. That's how the town works, not us.

I... I didn't want you to hate me for something I didn't choose.

I get it, but you didn't do anything wrong here.

Still feels like I did.

Welcome to Being 15. Hey, just so you know, your mom's looking for you. Like, really looking. And this is me, Avalon Fall's own Amy O'Connell, saying that.

Yeah. I figured she was.

She doesn't know what's really going on, and that is 100% for the best, but she's not sitting this out.

Yeah.

She always knows after.

That tells me everything. Piper isn't surprised. Piper isn't heartless. Piper has lived this cycle before. Do the thing. Get the result. Mom finds out later and turns it into content.

Is she scared?

Yeah, she is.

She loves me. She just loves the version of me she can explain.

You know, my mom left when I was really young. Not dramatic. Just gone. No stories. No warnings. She didn't even become a mystery. She just stopped. I don't really remember her. She was just a feeling, and then just an absence.

I didn't know that.

Most people don't. Your mom left that out of the book, which says a lot. My dad never talked about it, and I never really pushed. I always felt like I'd found family anyway. Mags, Dee Dee, even my Aunt Kathy to an extent. My dad, he was my whole world. And then he died when I was 13. Car accident, except it wasn't. And I guess that was the lesson. Sometimes even the people who want to stay don't get to.

I'm sorry.

Yeah, me too. I don't know why I'm telling her this. Maybe because she's Minerva's daughter, and I need her to know I see her as more than that. Or maybe because I'm trying to say something I haven't figured out how to say yet. I didn't ask you if you wanted any of this, any of you. I just assumed you'd keep up. What? The investigating, the clues, sending you and the others into situations. I didn't ask if you wanted to be pulled into my mess. I just assumed that's the Minerva Echo. Quiet, real, and harder to admit than I'd like.

I want this. I want to help. We all do. I just wish I didn't have to prove it by being right.

All right, lead the way. I've been here before, 10 years ago, with Mags and my dad and my dog. He'd brought us up Aerie Peak on our second visit to the island, said the view from the top would help us get our bearings and figure out the island's layout. I don't know if he believed any of what we had told him we'd seen the first time we were there. There were photos, but those could be explained away. I don't know what Jonathan thought of any of it. Really, I think he just wanted to spend time with us, away from the camping gear, just the three of us and cheese, eating sandwiches, looking out over Talagua Sound. Mags had brought her amazing triple-decker sandwiches. Dad laughed and said she was a culinary genius. She glowed in that shy way she does when she's proud. Cheese begged for anything with peanut butter, then got it stuck to the roof of her mouth and was a perpetual comedy machine for the next three minutes until she got it loose. I remember thinking, this is perfect. This moment, the four of us, the i sland spread out below, adventure ahead. I didn't know how quickly Perfect Things can end.

We're getting close. Let's go.

Somewhere behind us, people were trapped. Somewhere ahead of us, something wanted to be found. And for the first time, I understood how adults convince themselves they're doing the right thing by not stopping long enough to ask.

This place feels familiar in the wrong way. Not because I've been here before. This facility is new, or at least new, in that I didn't know it existed 10 years ago. But because I recognize the pattern, restricted ground, a dark presence that shouldn't exist, the weight of knowing we're not supposed to be here. Only this time, I'm not 12.

Hold here, let me check ahead.

Claire moves like someone who's done this before. Not dramatically, just efficiently. She checks angles without explaining. She knows where not to step, where shadows fall, where cameras would be mounted if there were cameras. Val watches her with the kind of focus I recognize. She's learning, taking mental notes, cataloging every movement for future reference. Val is choosing this. Claire has lived it. I was a kid who didn't know what game I was in. That triangulation sits uncomfortably in my chest.

Clear for now. No visible security. I don't think they expect traffic from land.

Nothing new from Miles or Walter.

All right, let's keep going. Your parents still in Seattle?

Oh, yeah, yeah, they are.

How are they?

Oh, you know, good, I guess. Dad's still doing PR for the tech company. Mom's still in banking. Yeah, they have that house in Bellevue all to themselves now.

Your dad and I worked together a lot back in the day when he was working at the Gazette. Yeah, Jim had sharp instincts.

Yeah, that's what I've heard.

You sound like there's a but in there.

I mean, he could have helped us, right? When Amy and I were investigating the island. You did, Jonathan did, Dee Dee did. He had resources, connections, a platform to expose what was happening.

But he didn't.

No, he didn't.

Your dad knew when to step back. That's rarer than people think.

He didn't help. He got in the way.

Yeah, he did. And you're still here, still alive, still making choices instead of being a cautionary tale. Listen, I get why you're angry, but I also get why he took that PR job in Seattle, why he got you out of Avalon Falls. Sometimes the bravest thing a parent can do is remove their kid from the fight, even when the kid wants to be in it.

I don't know if I agree with that, but I understand it more than I want to. Dee Dee was always more involved in that side of my life than my dad. That was the unspoken rule of the case. I never wanted my parents to know what we were really doing, because I know how they would have reacted. So we lied constantly, social studies projects, fan fiction workshops, study sessions at the O'Connell's. Half of our cons came from keeping Jim and Susan Park comfortable enough not to look too closely. Dee Dee ran interference when she could, she always did. Amy thought, really thought, that once my dad realized we were onto something, he'd flip, go full journalist, help us the way Jonathan did, the way Dee Dee did, the way Claire eventually did. As it turned out, she was wrong. My dad didn't help, he grounded me hard. Took my phone, shut my door, told me I wasn't allowed to see Amy or talk to her, or involve myself in anything that even had a passing resemblance to sleuthing or mysteries. Dee Dee got in trouble too. I re member lying on my bed that first night, listening to Dee Dee argue with him in the living room. Low voices, long pauses, the sound of two people who loved each other trying to agree on how to keep a kid alive. And then a knock at my window. I pulled the curtain aside and there was Amy. Hoodie pulled tight. That grin on her face like she already knew how this would end. Cheese waiting below, tail wagging like this was just another adventure. Amy didn't say a word, she just held out her hand. And I took it, no hesitation. I always did.

Up ahead.

A large cement square at the crest of a slight clearing, a ventilation shaft of some kind. That makes sense. If the facility has any kind of HVAC system, there'd be external access points for maintenance.

Let's check it out. If it's clear, we can get them to come to us.

And then we just help them get out instead of also getting trapped in there. Oh, hey, Val, you okay?

Miles isn't great in high-stress situations. Like, he's brilliant, he's resourceful, but he's not...

You're worried about him.

I'm worried about both of them. But yeah, Miles, he panics. And when he panics, he makes mistakes.

She wasn't choosing one over the other. She was protecting the one who would break first.

Okay, it looks good. Probably leads to a lower level of the facility.

Whoa, kind of far down.

Okay, telling them the plan, then we can go from there.

That sounds like, hello? Val? Is that you?

Holy shit, Miles?

Yeah, yeah, it's us. Probably shouldn't be talking too loud, though.

You probably shouldn't be talking too loud.

We figured this was the best place to go to escape.

Oh my god, yeah, we had the same idea.

Uh, guys, it's Mags, um, Mags Park. Yeah, hi. How are you doing down there?

Mags? Oh, uh, wow. Okay, uh, how are we doing? Well, you know, good news and bad news.

Oh, oh yeah? Okay, give us the good news first, buddy. Oh, oh, you already told us, didn't you? You being here is the good news, isn't it?

Um, yes.

Just tell us the bad news, Miles.

So, Walter broke his leg.

Did you tell them I broke my leg?

We didn't drag them here. We didn't force them to follow us, but we opened the door. And once you do that, you don't get to pretend you're not responsible for what's on the other side.

We're moving fast up Aerie Peak, not recklessly, but enough to be drenched in sweat. I mean, that's probably just me, right?

Can I ask you something?

Go for it. Just fair warning, I'm climbing, not thriving.

Why didn't you ever push back? I mean, about the book, about what my mom said happened.

Because it wouldn't have helped.

That's not an answer.

It is if you've lived long enough to know when the argument's already over. Listen, people believe the first version they hear. Everything after that sounds like damage control.

So you just let it be wrong?

I let it be over.

But now that's the version everyone knows.

Yeah, I guess it is. I could tell her the truth, that every time I pushed back, Minerva got more fuel for her blogs and appearances, more attention for her book, more reason to keep talking about us, and feeding her fucking quote unquote true crime media empire. I could tell her that sometimes the only way to win is to stop playing. But I don't, because she's 15 and she's already figuring that out on her own.

Signal's still strong. We should be almost on top of it now.

How close?

Maybe 50 meters? It's not moving. Whatever it is, it's stationary.

And then I recognize where we are. Not the exact spot, but close enough. The path curves this way. The drop to the right, steep and rocky. The way the sound looks from here. Darker water where the currents shift. It's a hard view to forget. Definitely been here before. With Jonathan and Mags and Cheese. That same day as my perfect peanut butter and jelly memory. Jonathan was so careful with us. Never pushed. Always asked what we thought first. Then offered his perspective. Made us feel like partners, not kids. God, I miss that.

This is it.

I don't see anything.

The signal's coming from...

up?

Oh, oh!

Look, look, look. There, in that cedar, about 20 feet up.

Looks like some kind of environmental sensing equipment.

There's wiring running down the trunk into the ground.

Can we dig it up?

Way ahead of you. Piper digs with the kind of focus that makes you forget she's nervous about her mom or worried about her friends. This is where she lives, in the problem, in the solution.

Yes!

There it is.

There it is.

And, uh, yeah. So, um, what, what is that?

It's, I don't know, a box. But the sensor leads connect here and go inside.

This old ass thing has been here for a while.

Let's open it.

Okay. Okay. Let's see. Does it have any sort of password or fingerprint ID?

It just opens.

Ah, great. Yeah, that's good.

Hmm.

Looks like just data caches, like some dusty old storage drives. I thought it would be more.

It is more.

It's just data, old data, probably junk. It's useless.

No, it's patient.

What do you mean?

It's not useless. This is someone waiting, watching, recording everything before anyone knew to look.

I guess when you remember there's another one out there, possibly others.

Exactly. It's too heavy to take the whole thing. Industrial battery pack, weatherproof housing, wiring running back up to the sensors in the tree. We take the data storage, leave the rest. We cover it back up, not perfectly, but enough that you'd have to be looking to notice. I used to think we were reckless, that we'd stumbled into something too big by accident. Standing there, looking at a data cache that's been quietly recording for years, I wasn't so sure anymore. Silence doesn't always mean nothing happened. Sometimes it just means someone chose to wait.

It's Val.

She's saying head back to the boat. 9-1-1.

Shit, let's go. But right now, evidence doesn't matter. Right now, we need to get these kids off an island they should never have been on in the first place. An island we sent them to, when we definitely knew better.

There are moments when everything slows down, not because things are calm, but because your brain finally catches up. I'd been on this island before, I knew how fear worked here. What I didn't know back then was how to see the shape of it. How far down is that?

Looks about 30 feet. All right, Val, I need you to gather everything we have. Rope, straps, climbing gear, carabiners, anything that can support weight or create a pulley system.

On it.

Marguerite, let's get that grate off.

Let me see what we're working with. The grate is secured with industrial bolts, heavy duty. But something's off. The hardware doesn't match the facility's apparent age. New bolts on old concrete. The shaft itself looks weathered, more than a decade for sure. But these mounting points are recent. Someone retrofitted this space. I don't remember this place being here 10 years ago. I don't remember anyone other than drug-dealing bikers being on the island at all. But from what I can see of the facility structure through the grate, parts of it look older than 10 years. Yeah, infrastructure mismatch. I file it away. No time to dwell. These bolts are industrial grade. But these kids packed a crowbar, so… I could probably pry two of these bars apart. Create a gap wide enough for them to squeeze through.

Okay, let's do this. Two, three.

The bars don't break, but they bend slowly, grudgingly, creating a gap just wide enough.

That'll work. Okay, I've got…

Whoa, holy shit. Val arrives with a comedic amount of rope and climbing equipment. Harnesses, carabiners, more rope, webbing. She looks like a one-person mountaineering expedition.

That's as concerning as it is impressive.

You said bring everything we had.

No, this is good. This is perfect. The great staying in place actually helps. We can use the bars as anchor points. Create a pulley system to distribute Walter's weight. We'll send ropes and harnesses down. I'll coach them through getting Walter secured first, then Miles. Once they're harnessed, we pull them up carefully.

I'm going down. I'll bring it.

What did you just say?

I'll take the medical supplies down, do initial stabilization on Walter's leg, then you can coach us through the extraction from up here.

No, Marguerite, absolutely not. We need fewer people down there, not more.

Mags is a doctor.

Uh, well.

Really?

Amy told me she's a doctor and Walter needs one.

You're sure about this, doctor?

Yes.

Five minutes. You get down there, you stabilize him, you get back up. No heroics.

Understood. The Weirdos kit is insanely well stocked. Not just basic supplies. Sam splints, trauma shears, emergency blankets, bandages, even a tourniquet. This isn't a camping first aid kit. This is an activist cells preparation for the worst. I think about 12 year old me packing triple decker sandwiches and feeling like Lara Croft. These kids brought actual survival gear. I opened the kit and took what I needed. The splint, wraps, gloves. If I was wrong, I could carry them back up. If I was right, someone was going to need them.

Don't do anything stupid.

Well, you know, I will try. The descent is weird and tense. The vent is large enough, old industrial ventilation like a vertical sewer tunnel. The rope creaks above me. And part of me, a stupid giddy part, realizes how fucking cool this is right now. I've played enough Tomb Raider to appreciate the moment. Repelling into a secret facility to rescue my trapped friends. Medical supplies strapped to my chest. 12 year old me is loving this right now.

Mags? Oh, thank god.

Hey buddy, you okay?

I'm fine. Walter, he's over there in the alcove.

It's dark inside where we are, like a forgotten or unused part of the facility. The air smells like concrete dust and motor oil. Miles leads me to the edge of the alcove, points across a narrow hallway to where Walter is propped against the wall, leg extended awkwardly in front of him. But before we cross, I look down the hallway toward the light. A large, open, warehouse-like space, shipping containers everywhere, stacked high in the distance, three, four levels deep. This isn't a research facility. This is storage. Okay, Miles, stay behind me.

Hi, Ms. Park, fancy meeting you here.

Hey, Walter, you doing okay?

My leg is broken, so no, I'm not okay.

He's pale, obviously in pain, but he's conscious, alert, trying to keep Miles' spirits up, even though he's the one with a broken leg. Miles, on the other hand, looks like he's about to shatter, upset, stressed, worried, guilty, definitely pushing himself mentally, as far as he's ever had to. I need to take control, give him orders, let him fall into the calming rhythm of someone else making decisions. Miles, I need you to hold the flashlight, right here, steady.

Okay, yeah, got it.

Walter, look at me, what hurts?

Definitely my leg, and everything else hurts, kind of, too.

Can you tell me where you are right now?

Dark alcove in unidentified industrial warehouse.

Yeah, yeah, true. Let's zoom it out a bit, okay, big guy?

Washington State, United States of America.

Okay, that's on me. I said zoom. It's too evocative. Yes, yeah. So, little more specific, my dude. What island are we on?

We're on Osprey Island, in a threshold facility, which I wouldn't recommend.

Good, you're oriented. That's good. I check for bleeding first. None, thank God. Then deformity. There's swelling already. Significant, below the knee. The leg is positioned at an awkward angle, but not grotesquely so. Closed fracture. Tibia, maybe fibula, possibly a severe ankle fracture. Painful, immobilizing, but very manageable. I'm going to touch your leg. Tell me if anything feels worse than it already does.

Oh, Collie Shangles. Yes, worse. Definitely worse now.

I know. I'm sorry. Almost done. Don't fix it. Just stop it from getting worse. Miles, I need you to hold the splint steady while I position it. Can you do that?

Yes, absolutely.

You're doing incredibly, Miles. You got this.

Good. Here, we're going to immobilize above and below the joint. Walter, this is going to hurt, but it'll hurt less once it's stabilized.

Is this where I get to bite down on a leather strap?

Walter, don't make it weird, dude. Come on.

Miles, you're doing great. Keep the splint just like that.

OK.

Walter, I need you to keep talking to me. Tell me about... I don't know. Tell me about the weirdest thing you've researched in the last month.

Municipal water fluoridation conspiracies.

Amazing. Classic, Walter, what did you find?

Mostly, mostly people who don't understand chemistry.

Sounds about right. There. That's as stable as I can make it without x-rays and actual medical equipment.

Is he going to be okay?

I mean, he needs a hospital, but he'll make it there. You both will. Walter, I'm going to wrap this around you. You're going into shock. It's normal. But we need to keep you warm.

Thanks, Doc.

All right, we're going to get this harness on you. It's going to hurt when we lift you, but Claire and Val are up top with a pulley system. They'll get you out.

Um, I don't...

Miles, look at me. This wasn't your fault. Walter fell because he was trying to help you. That's what friends do.

And I do it again.

I have another leg.

You didn't cause this. You've been keeping him conscious and calm, which is exactly what he needed. You did everything right. But... Everything right. Got it? Okay. Good. Now I need you to help me get this harness secured. It takes a few minutes. Walter grits through the pain. Miles holds steady. And finally, we've got him secured. Okay, they're lifting. Walter, you're going first.

VIP treatment.

Exactly. Because Walter is more dead weight than an active climber, Claire worked out a second rope, one that Miles and I can use to help hoist from below while they pull from above. On three, we pull. One, two, three.

This is suboptimal.

I know. You're doing great, though. Almost there.

Got him. We've got him.

Okay, Miles, your turn. Get the harness on. While Miles clips in, I take one more look into the warehouse. Rows of containers, markings I can't quite read from here. But I pull out my phone and snap photos, hoping to at least get some numbers, some words, anything identifiable.

Ready.

Good. Start climbing. I'll be right behind you. Miles climbs faster than Walter. Lighter, more agile, adrenaline still pumping. He's up and out in less than a minute. And then it's just me. One last look at the warehouse, at the facility we shouldn't have found, at the infrastructure that's been here longer than anyone admitted. And then I climb.

You're out. Good. We need to move. All right. Val, you and Miles take point. Mags and I will help Walter. We move fast, but careful. No running unless we have to. Got it.

We move through the forest like a strange, determined organism. Val navigating, Miles staying close to Walter, Claire and I carrying the stretcher between us. Walter drifts in and out, conscious but exhausted. The emergency blanket keeps him warm. And somehow we make it back to the beach.

There, I see them.

Oh my god, Walter!

Piper, we need to get the dinghy ready. Come on.

Amy and Piper are waiting at the dinghy. Amy's face shifts from relief to concern when she sees Walter on the stretcher. How bad? Broken leg, stabilized. He needs x-rays and proper treatment, but he'll be okay.

You went full doctor mode, didn't you?

It was an emergency.

Yeah, that's just great. The emergency is I'm going to regret missing it for the rest of my life.

Hey, hi, we need to get moving before anyone notices we were here.

Are you okay? Do you need anything?

I'm good, really. Oh, do you have a meatball sub?

No, guy, come on.

I would also accept turkey.

We're leaving Osprey Island again. More questions, more traumatic memories, more proof that this place doesn't let go easily. But this time is different. Nobody left, nobody abandoned, and no one pretending this was just bad luck. The weirdos don't leave people behind, and neither do we.

The seahorse cuts through Tlaqua Sound like this is just another evening cruise, and not the aftermath of a makeshift rescue mission from a corporate black site, which is, statistically speaking, not how most evenings go. The sun's setting behind us, Avalon falls ahead, and on the deck, the weirdos are laughing.

I'm just saying, if we're ranking my injuries by historical significance, this is definitely top three.

Wait, this isn't number one?

You have a ranking system for your injuries?

Do you not?

What are the other two?

One was a bike accident in fifth grade. Fractured collarbone. Went right over the handlebars. Yeah, trying to get home fast. Didn't want to miss Power Rangers. For fifth grade me, that was event TV. Now that I have all the episodes, well, I mean, I guess I still rush home for Power Rangers. Just, I have a van now.

Dude, what was the other injury?

Oh, that, yeah. I broke my face, like, the whole face.

You broke your face? Like, how?

I literally cannot say. I signed an NDA. Well, the document was actually more restrictive than an NDA. I believe those are referred to as an NDA Ultra. You know, now that I mentioned that, I'm not sure if discussing NDA Ultras were part of what I agreed to not disclose. So, there might be some legal exposure here. Yeah.

They're actually pumped, not in a bullshit bravado way, not trying to prove anything, just joyful, relieved, bonded by what they just survived. And Mags and I are standing off to the side, watching them, not sure what to feel. Meanwhile, Claire is on the phone with emergency responders, getting them to meet us at the docks to tend to Walter's hiking injury.

All right, Walter, you're going to Cedar Brook. They'll x-ray, set the leg, and they may keep you overnight for observation.

Yes, ma'am. Thank you.

This is a hiking injury, all right? That's the story. You were up on the trails in Mount Holloway National Park, slipped on loose rocks, fell. Your friends carried you back to the boat. Got it?

Hiking injury. Got it.

All of you. Same story. No variations. No embellishments. No mentioning anything that can't happen on a boring public hiking trail in a national park.

We understand. Good.

You too, with me.

Uh-oh.

What I just did, that has consequences. I need you both to understand something.

Claire.

No, you listen. I just helped extract three teenagers and Walter from a facility they shouldn't have known about, on an island they shouldn't have been on, investigating things that are actively dangerous.

I know.

One of them has a broken leg. Two of them were trapped underground for hours. All of them could have been caught, arrested, disappeared, and I'm the one making phone calls to arrange cover stories.

We're grateful.

I don't want your gratitude. I want you to stop pretending this was inevitable. Someone said, keep digging, and these four listened. Someone gave them breadcrumbs and they followed the trail. Someone opened doors and assumed these kids could handle what was on the other side.

She's right. Of course she's right.

I'm containing this as best I can.

I know. Thank you for...

I'm done doing you these kinds of favors. I love you both. You know I do. But I can't keep cleaning up after situations you create. I can't keep being the adult who makes problems disappear while you keep pushing kids into danger.

That's not what we...

It's not? You're not 12 anymore. They're not you, and I can't lose another one of you.

Another one? She means my dad, Jonathan, the person she couldn't save. Claire's been trying to steer me away from going too far, pushing too deep for years. Not because she doesn't believe in me, not because she thinks I'm wrong, but because she watched what happened when someone kept digging, and she doesn't want to watch it happen again.

She's not wrong. I know.

We stand there for a minute, not talking, just holding the weight.

Hey, can we talk to you guys?

Yeah, of course.

How are you feeling, Walter?

Pain meds are kicking in, feeling philosophical.

It was a Tylenol, dude. Relax.

I have a remarkably low tolerance to drugs. It was especially helpful when I broke my face. You know, that may have violated the NDA Ultra again. Really have to watch that.

We just wanted to say, we know what you're probably thinking.

That you shouldn't have involved us, that this was too dangerous.

But we chose this.

We wanted to help. We wanted to be part of this.

You didn't coerce us.

If anything, we coerced Ms. Park first. Remember? The drones? We swarmed her.

Actually, that was more of a terrifying threat than coercion, but okay, sure.

We don't need to be protected from the truth. We deserve to know what's happening in our town.

Even if knowing puts you in danger, especially then, ignorance doesn't protect anyone.

We're not saying we're going to stop working with you, but we need to be more careful, more deliberate.

We can't keep putting you in situations where people get hurt.

People get hurt doing nothing, too. At least this way, we're doing something that matters.

I look at them bruised, exhausted, Walter with a broken leg, and Miles still carrying guilt he shouldn't have, and they mean it. They're not traumatized. They're energized. And I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse. Piper? Uh, Pipes, come here a second. Yeah? You found that signal. You tracked it down. You figured out the pattern.

You want me to analyze the data.

I want you to keep half of it. Look into it from your angle. We'll come at it from ours. Sometimes different perspectives see different things.

Um, thanks, Amy.

You did a good job today. Really good. I'm sorry it ended the way it did.

I'm not.

And she walks back to join the others. The boat shifts as we approach the harbor, clear at the helm, alone, separate, focused on navigation, and I don't know, docking or whatever. The weirdos clustered together near Walter, energized despite everything, already planning their next move, probably. And Mags and me, standing apart, holding the weight of what we've done and what we keep doing. The seahorse carries us home, but nothing feels resolved, nothing feels clean. We saved them, all of them, nobody left behind. So why does it feel like we lost something anyway?

The seahorse pulls in to Avalon Falls Harbor as the sun drops below the tree line. Golden hour light making everything look softer than it is. We'd texted Minerva during the voyage back. Brief, factual, found Piper and her friends, everyone alive, one injured but stable, not Piper, ambulance waiting. We didn't mention details about where exactly they were on the island, or about what we'd found, what we'd done. Just, she's safe, she's coming home. Minerva is waiting on the dock, standing perfectly still, arms at her sides, not pacing, not checking her phone, just waiting, watching the seahorse approach like she's been standing there for hours.

Okay, what do we got?

Left leg, possible tibial fracture, splinted in field.

Patient's been conscious and alert throughout, no other visible injuries.

Got it, we'll get him loaded up.

This is my 14th trip in an ambulance. I'm not counting the time for my broken face because of, well, reasons.

Okay, big cat, we got you.

I'm going with him to the hospital.

Okay, I'll come as soon as I check in at home.

And then it's just us on the dock, Piper standing on the gangplank. And Minerva, 20 feet away, watching.

Here we go.

Piper walks toward her mother, not running, not hesitating, just walking. The world stands still. There's no hugging, no crying, no emotional speeches or apologies. Instead, Minerva reaches out, touches Piper's arm, just her fingertips against her daughter's sleeve, confirming she's real solid here. Piper lets it happen, doesn't pull away, but doesn't lean in either. They exchange a look, brief, loaded, something that says, not now.

That's not what I expected.

The world doesn't heal. It resets with tension intact. That tells us everything we need to know about their dynamic.

I'm going to check on Walter later at Cedar Brook. I'll be home after that.

I'll be there.

Can I catch a ride to the diner? I need to see my mom before I head to the hospital.

Yeah, of course.

Thanks.

Marguerite, Amy, a moment.

Minerva, we're going to...

I knew.

Uh, what?

I knew that Piper knew you, that she saw you as heroes, that she was investigating aspects of the Dylan Holt case, and that you chose not to tell me.

We were trying to...

I told you I can do my own investigating. Did you think I wouldn't look into who my daughter was communicating with? Who she was associating with?

We were protecting her.

From me?

Are you kidding me right now? You fed her evidence. You gave her clues. You sent her into situations you knew were dangerous, and you didn't tell me.

If we had told you...

What? I would have stopped her? Written about it? Exploited it for content? You edited me out of the narrative. Again. I thought we'd moved past this. The assumption that I'm the villain in your story. The opportunist. The woman who profits from your pain.

You are an opportunist. You did profit off of our pain.

You wrote a book about us without permission.

Yes, I did. And I've made my career on it. I don't apologize for that. But my daughter is not your story to control.

We never said she was.

No, you just acted like it. But here's the thing, my little monetizable grief objects. Stories don't end when you walk away from them. They just get told by someone else. Go. I'm at the docks now. No, we can record tomorrow morning. I don't care what Trevor thinks about the intro music. It stays. Yes, fine. I'll call you in an hour.

She doesn't threaten, she doesn't yell, she just walks away. We're not done. We're done for now. Amy and I are left standing on the dock together. Not victorious, not condemned. Just standing there. We walk in silence. There's nothing to say. We didn't win today. We didn't lose. We just activated something, something that's been waiting, watching, calculating. Minerva isn't our antagonist anymore. She's something worse. And we just gave her all the motivation she needed.

We headed back to Lucens with one mission, food, then answers. We'd stopped at Lula's on the way, dropped Val off, grabbed dinner to go. Lula was all warmth and relief, thanking us for bringing the kids home safe, hoping Val had fun on her adventure. She also mentioned she was planning to send wings over to the hospital for Walter, said he could add his own hot sauce if he wanted. She knew he had opinions about that kind of thing.

Okay, so we go through these data drives first, see what's actually on them.

Yup, then if we have energy left, we tackle some of the stuff from Dylan's storage unit.

And if we're still awake after that, late night coffee break.

Then come back and finally do a random dive into the machine and see where that leads.

Totally normal evening, innit?

Okay, data drives.

This feels like another door. What? Never mind. Okay, first cache, metadata. These time codes, they line up with the Osprey Island case timeline. Look, this file was created June 2015. This one's from July.

How much data are we looking at?

About a gig on this drive. That's substantial, even over a decade. Not surveillance footage. That would be way bigger. But readings could be low space, even text only. It's organized into folders, looks like five main categories.

File names tell us anything?

Um, okay, weird. Looks like surnames, I guess. Kemp, Peyton, Shrimp, McDaniel, Durant. Last names for maybe scientists or something?

Basketball players.

What?

Sean Kemp, Gary Peyton, Detlef Shrimp, Xavier McDaniel, Kevin Durant, Seattle SuperSonics players. I didn't need to open the files to know who'd name them. Of course it was him. Jonathan.