They stayed at the restaurant until the sun was just beginning to touch the tops of the naked branches of the trees. Billy had been quiet and distant after he came back inside, but had stuck close to Chardi. Chardi never got a moment alone to tell him about the strange interaction he had with Derek in the bathroom.

  Back at the school, the crew wasted no time getting back to work. Before Chardi could so much as try to get close to Billy before he was occupied. Billy and Brad were pointing cameras and Imogen was hoisting a boom mic in Derek's direction as he began to monologue in the golden light of sunset.

  "This," Derek said, gesturing to the crumbling edifice of the building behind him, "Is St. Agnes' Girls Preparatory School. It once housed twelve nuns and 130 girls between the ages of six and eighteen."

  Derek continued talking, his voice loud and clear, his expression somber. He looked every bit the host and showman that his reputation said he was.

  Chardi tuned out of the hastily filmed introduction. He had heard it all before when Derek first pitched the idea to him, after all.

  He tucked his hands into his armpits and hunched his shoulders against as the wind picked up. Without the sun, the temperature was dropping rapidly and Chardi wished he had the gray jean jacket that he had shoved into the bottom of his backpack.

  Before he could start walking in the direction of their little camp, Derek was clapping and declaring his own introduction to be perfect.

  "Listen people, we've got maybe five minutes of daylight left. As soon as the sun is down, I want to start shooting inside. So, if you have any last minute shit to do, get it done," Derek barked at the scraggly group of them arrayed in front of the school.

  Imogen and Billy grumbled, but immediately began checking cables and adjusting knobs on their equipment. Elijah cornered Derek to argue about something a little ways from everyone else. Chardi didn't stop to see if someone would have a task for him. He hustled over to the little circle of tents without a backward glance.

  Inside the small red tent that Billy had set up for him, Chardi found his backpack. He could have swore that he had left it in the corner near the tent flap, but when he opened the tent it was sitting square in the center of the tent.

  Frowning, Chardi pulled his backpack over to him, a feeling of suspicion shadowing his already anxious mood. He unzipped the main pocket to look for his jacket. To his growing discomfort, it was sitting at the top in a loose bundle.

  Chardi knew for a fact that he had folded his jacket and put it at the bottom of his bag before he left, to cushion his laptop and other electronics so they weren't hitting the floor every time he put his backpack down. Quickly, Chardi started sorting through his belongings.

  Everything he had brought with him was still in his bag, but whoever had gone through his things had made no attempt to hide it. All his stuff was shoved back in the general place it had been, though often unfolded or upside down or, in the case of his pen case, emptied into a side pocket with the case tossed on top.

  Chardi was boiling with anger by the time he was almost done checking everything. It was more than obvious to him who would have the motive to do such a thing. Derek must have been checking to make sure he didn't have any other medication stashed in his bag while he and Billy were going through the school earlier that day.

  He had mostly decided to storm up to Derek and slug him in the face, regardless of how badly he needed the money or his meds, when he ripped open the last pocket on his backpack. There, placed as snugly in the little compartment as it had been when he put it there himself, was his only photo of him and his dad.

  At the sight of the image, all the anger in Chardi seeped out of him in a sudden swirl of exhaustion and grief.

  The photo was printed out on cheap printer paper. Chardi didn't have anything left of his dad or of the home he grew up in. When he went into foster care, he wasn't able to take anything with him. His whole house was a crime scene. It was only after he started college that he found the photo that he held in his hand. A grainy thumbnail on an old Facebook post about short story winners in his elementary school. There, on his old worn out laptop, he had seen his dad's face beside his own as they posted together in the school hallway for a photo. His little chubby face had looked so serious while his dad had looked so proud and happy.

  He had been afraid he had forgotten his dad's face or misremembered it. But, he looked as warm and loving as Chardi had remembered.

  He had kept the picture saved to his computer for months before finally deciding to print it out in case something happened to his aging laptop. Reza had kindly helped him find a little plastic sleeve he could put the photo in to keep it safe.

  Ever since then, he took it everywhere with him.

  It scared him to think that Derek had ever gotten so close to it. It wasn't like it had a lot of value. Technically, Chardi could print out another copy of the picture any time. But just the thought of losing it or having it taken sent a throb of terror and grief through him.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Chardi rubbed the pad of his thumb over his dad's face, a nervous gesture that he did any time he looked at the picture. Then, he carefully tucked it away into his backpack and replaced the backpack in the corner of the tent closest to the tent flap.

  Back outside, Chardi shrugged his jean jacket on over his hoodie. The sky was a pale blue gray color, the last of the light steadily disappearing below the horizon. It would be dark soon. Chardi felt as washed out as the sky looked, but he still had that night and the next before he could return to Philadelphia and his normal life.

  He would put his head down and push through it, like he always did. At least, that's what he told himself as he crunched through the dry leaves back to the front of the school where the rest of the crew were gathered.

  Derek was standing on the top step of the school, looking over them with a discerning eye like a king might look over his kingdom. As soon as Chardi approached, Billy came up to him with a wad of cables and a fist sized black box in his hands.

  "Mind if I mic you up?" he asked with a tilt of his head.

  Chardi frowned and hesitated. He hadn't quite considered that he would have to wear a microphone on him, but he guessed that it made sense. Imogen had her boom mic, but since they were going to be wandering around, it was probably a good idea to have a backup.

  "Uh, sure," Chardi shrugged, staring doubtfully at all the cables and technological detritus that Billy was holding. Just because he understood the need for a mic to be attached to him, didn't mean Chardi understood how exactly Billy would do it.

  "Okay, cool," Billy said with a nod, stepping into Chardi's space. Chardi froze as Billy leaned close, both of his arms going behind his back.

  "This is the battery pack," Billy explained nonchalantly, his mouth barely an inch from Chardi's ear. His breath whispered against his skin. "I'm going to attach it to your belt, if that's okay. It's kind of heavy."

  "Okay," Chardi agreed, embarrassed at how flustered he sounded. But, if Billy took any notice, he didn't express it.

  Billy attached something to the back of Chardi's worn and fraying leather belt right above the curve of his ass. It was indeed heavy enough that Chardi felt it pulling on his belt.

  "I've got to run the cable for the mic under your shirt," Billy explained, his freezing cold hands brushing against Chardi's sides as he threaded a cable around his side to his chest.

  He paused with the mic right in the center of Chardi's chest, his shirt and sweatshirt hiked up to expose his belly to the cold night air. Billy looked up through his fringe and finally looked a little flustered himself.

  "Um, do you want to reach in from the collar and pull it through?" he asked hesitantly.

  "Yeah! Yes, sure," Chardi said quickly, fumbling his hand through his already stretched out collar to take the mic from Billy's cold fingers and pull it back up and out of his shirt.

  "Okay, good," Billy said, standing up straight. "Then, we just clip it to the front of your shirt like this," he explained, using a small black clip beside the little foam cylinder of the mic to attach it to the middle of his hoodie. Billy then pulled a piece of tape from a roll of it that he had hanging off his own belt and held it out to Chardi.

  Chardi took it, looking at Billy with confusion.

  "Uh, I thought you'd rather tape it yourself," he mumbled. "To your chest, I mean. It's so the mic doesn't move around as much," Billy said, gesturing vaguely toward the center of his own chest.

  Understanding dawning on him, Chardi reached under his shirt and used the piece of tape to attach the cable for the mid to the middle of his chest, pulling it up a little so there was plenty of slack to hang out of his shirt. The tape was a little itchy against the soft skin of his chest, but he thought he'd probably forget about it once they started working.

  "Cool. Perfect," Billy said a little awkwardly. He was rubbing a hand through his already wildly disarrayed blonde hair and looking off to the side.

  "Is everyone ready?" Derek asked from where he stood above the rest of them. It was addressed to all of them, but his eyes were drilling into the back of Billy's head.

  At the discordant chorus of confirmation he got from the crew, Derek grinned wide and clapped his hands. "Excellent! Most of you know the drill, but for the new members I'll go over things briefly."

  Pointing at himself, Derek explained, "I'll be heading the investigation, which means that I decide where everyone goes and what they do. This isn't a democracy, this is an investigation. So, once we're rolling, I don't need any backtalk." This was aimed primarily at Chardi, but he couldn't have possibly cared less. Short of walking off a cliff, Chardi was happy to go wherever Derek asked, as long as his checks continued to clear.

  "Cooper is my assistant. He'll be sticking with me tonight. Imogen, I want you to focus the boom over me, if you can," Derek continued.

  "You got it, boss," Imogen said in a monotone, already holding up her boom mic.

  "Brad, you're on me and Cooper for this investigation. You know the drill, stick to me and give us a good spread of the location-"

  "Wait, what?" Billy said, interrupting. He was frowning prodigiously up at Derek, stepping forward to stand at the base of the steps.

  Derek looked at Billy, his gaze dismissive. "Billy, since you're so eager to get your instructions, you stay on Chardi tonight. I don't want you to miss a second of him during this investigation."

  "But-" Billy cut himself off, wrinkling his nose. "Why me? I'm always primary cam. And, I thought you didn't like-"

  "What did I just say?" Derek interrupted Billy, his voice cold and cutting.

  Billy froze. Chardi could only see Billy's back, but he could easily see the rest of the crew. Brad and Elijah were both wincing, looking embarrassed to even be witnessing the conversation. Imogen looked faintly murderous, her eyes cold and calculating as they watched Derek glare down at his little brother. Cooper, however, looked ecstatic, his mouth twitching with a badly suppressed grin.

  "Did I not just say, this is not a democracy? Did I ask for your opinion? Do I need you to tell me what we've done before?" Derek continued, his voice icy.

  Billy remained frozen, his shoulders tense.

  "No. I do not," Derek finished with a purposefully insincere smile. "You can do what I tell you to do or you can leave. Is that clear?"

  There was a long pregnant pause where it felt like no one so much as dared to breathe too loud. Until finally, Billy muttered a small, "Yes."

  Derek's smile widened, even if it never reached his eyes. "Wonderful," he said. "Then, let's get started."