dandelion // h.s.

f o r t y - t h r e e

"A bait hook?" Harry whispers incredulously. "You're sure that fell off the person you chased?"

"Deathly sure," Boo mumbles, turning the bait hook over in her hands. The body of the hook consists of a small wooden fish, probably hand-carved, painted with varying shades of red and blue and green paint that's chipped in several places. A tiny white eye gazes back at her in frozen horror. The blades of the hook are still stained brown with what she knows is dried fish blood.

Calum.

"I know who this belongs to," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. Her gaze shifts up and she sees Harry studying her intently. "Remember I told you I ran into Calum on my way here?"

Harry nods solemnly. Boo huffs nasally and begins absently fiddling with the bait hook, searching for a way to ground her idle fingers. "Well, guess what he was doing," she bites in frustration.

A heavy sigh of realization leaves Harry's lips. Boo purses her lips together in thought, trying to decide what this information means.

Why would Calum want to set the fairgrounds on fire?

Harry voices this concern aloud, as if he could read Boo's mind like one reads a book. "The entire pile of fireworks was ablaze, he could have set off a major explosion if the fire department was there any later. What in the hell was he thinking?"

"Really, the fireworks?" she repeats, her eyebrows rising in surprise. She'd been so focused on chasing the unknown figure, it didn't occur to her to see what was actually on fire. "Is he homicidal? He could've killed somebody!"

As soon as the words leave her mouth, she and Harry share a candid glance. "Guess we can't write Calum off as harmless anytime soon," he mumbles.

Boo nods hesitantly. "It may not have been him though," she adds after a moment. Harry casts her a curious look. "I . . . I yelled the name Hosk as we were running and they almost fell over. I think I caught them by surprise."

"So you think it could be this Hosk character too?" Harry questions. "If it was, why would he have one of Calum's baiting hooks? And why would a cop want to set the fairgrounds on fire?"

Boo's gaze drops to the bait hook in her hands. She turns the little wooden fish over in her hands once more, watching the way the moonlight seems to almost drip off the glazed paint. "I think the bigger question is why someone would try to set us on fire, twice. Coincidences like this don't happen in Jack Creek."

Harry swallows hard. "I think you know the answer to that as well as I do," he answers hoarsely. His fingers dig gently into her hips, gently tugging her body closer to his. "We're getting close. Someone is getting scared."

"But who?" The fish continues to gape up at Boo, its expression frozen in time. "Someone knows we're coming. I know Nathaniel is involved in all this, somehow. I can feel it. But it can't be just him, and tonight proves that. He's smart enough to not risk getting caught doing something stupid like this."

"Maybe he's got help," Harry suggests feebly. He leans in to plant a comforting kiss on her forehead. "Let's head back, I don't want you out here any longer," he mumbles against our skin. "I want you home, where you're safe."

« • »

Boo reclines on Harry's bed that evening, her legs loosely caught in the flimsy sheets adorning his bed. Her eyes are glued to the ceiling, her ears tuned absently to the quiet thrumming of water hitting ceramic as Harry showers in the adjacent bathroom. In her fingers, rotating slowly, is the bait hook. Her mind buzzes while she tries to make sense of the day's events.

If Calum were responsible for the fire at the fairgrounds, it would mean he was also more-than-likely responsible for the church fire. He'd already lied to her in the Little Bean, but it hadn't occurred to her that he was the one who set the fire. Try as she might, Boo can't seem to wrap her head around his motivations; perhaps they lay somewhere sinister. Is he interested in protecting Nathaniel from Boo and Harry? Does he know what his own grandfather could be capable of?

Then again, how would he know? Boo's spent weeks chasing down empty leads and scattered truths, and she's still only inches closer to solving a mystery that lay miles away from her. What advantage would Calum have over her?

She sighs headily. Her eyes flutter shut for a moment and she inhales deeply, counting the seconds that pass until her lungs are fully inflated. She wonders what life would be like if she could reverse time to the night of Martha's death—if only she could have convinced Martha to go with her to Harrisford, she'd still be alive. Boo wouldn't be living in constant fear, wondering if she's going to be next. She'd probably be able to sleep at night without fearing she won't wake to see the following morning.

But then who would care about Damien? Or Hazel? Would she and Harry still exist in the same way they do now?

A pang shoots through her heart. Her eyes flutter open; all the daydreaming in the world won't change the past. She flips the fish in her fingers once more and resumes her empty staring at the ceiling. In the background, the water cuts off and Harry sniffles loudly. A door creaks and warm light floods the hallway as Harry ambles out of the bathroom and towards his room. Boo turns her attention to the doorway just as he walks inside, flashing her a boyish smile while making his way to the closet.

"What's on your mind, love?" he hums quietly.

Boo watches him fish out his pajamas. "Just thinking," she mumbles hollowly. "Every time we get a step closer, something else derails and we get pulled back three."

Harry shirks on a shirt and tugs on his boxers before dropping the towel secured around his waist. "I know it's frustrating. But I'm proud of you, and you should be too."

Her eyes stay on him as he rounds the end of the bed and crawls in beside her. He kisses her temple as his arms encircle her, cradling her close to his chest.

"Why?" she asks sadly. "We're no closer to proving anything."

"You haven't given up yet, why start now," he chuckles lightly in her ear. "Your dedication is astounding. Not even a fire can scare you off."

"Two fires," she corrects him sardonically. "And a break-in."

Harry's nose presses into her neck, gently nuzzling her. "My point exactly," he whispers. Moving carefully, he nudges her into a spooning position; one arm is slung around her waist while the other rests behind her. He heaves a contented sigh and snuggles himself further into Boo's warmth, settling down for sleep. Boo stares glumly at the wall, knowing that sleep is still far from her grasp. Her eyes dance along the contents littering the top of his desk, and that's when she spots something curious.

Leant on the wall behind the desk is a little aluminum coin covered in strange symbols; it doesn't look like any money she's seen before. She strains her eyes and even in the dark, she's able to make out the words TO THINE OWN SELF BE TRUE. In the middle of the coin is a triangle with the letter V in the middle.

Her breath hitches in her throat. The coin isn't money—it's a sobriety chip.

sending my prayers to the world right now. please remember to love each other and be kind.