“Julia’s diary?” Gage questioned as he stepped over to Cayden. “Let me see that,” he said as he reached for it, but Cayden turned away and flipped through the pages.

“I wonder why the police didn’t find it,” he noted aloud.

“Because they’re idiots,” Gage responded. “Half the time they don’t know what they’re doing.” He glanced down at the diary and Julia’s papers and took another step forward. “Hey, give it to me, you don’t need to deal with it. I’ll take care of it for you.”

“I think maybe I should call the police. They might want to see this, it could lead them to find whoever it is that killed this girl,” Cayden explained as he stood up. “Thanks for helping me move the sofa,” he added. “I’m good now.”

Gage hesitated as he glanced at Cayden, then at the diary. “Are you sure you don’t want to give it to me?” He questioned. “You’re new here and you probably don’t want to get involved in this case.”

“Involved? I’m living in the dead girl’s apartment and I just literally stumbled on probable evidence in her murder case, I’d say I’m pretty involved as it is.”

Gage nodded and head for the door. “If don’t want to handle it, I can take it off of your hands,” he said a bit too eagerly.

“It’s okay,” Cayden responded. “I’ve got it covered.”

Stepping into the hall, Gage nearly bumped into Kathryn Hayes.

“Walk much?” Kathryn chided as she gave Gage a playful tap on the shoulder. “Oh hey,” she said as she peered into Cayden’s apartment. “You got clothes on!” With a smile, she stepped into the apartment. “How’s everything going?” She questioned.

“Pretty good,” Cayden said, slightly distracted by the diary and the letters he’d just found.

Gage entered the apartment again. “He just found something of Julia’s,” Gage commented.

Kathryn turned back to Gage, then glanced at Cayden. “Something of Julia’s?”

“Yeah, it looks like a diary and some letters and stuff,” Cayden explained.

“What?!” Kathryn nearly screamed as she advanced toward Cayden. “Let me see those,” she said as she reached for Julia’s diary. Cayden pulled back.

“I don’t think it would be right,” He said as he held Julia’s personal effects at bay. “These were her private thought.”

“But we were her friends,” Kathryn explained.

“Yes, and anything she would have wanted you to know, she would have told you, right?” Cayden questioned. “I think it’s best if we just turn this over to the police and let them read through it.”

“Why would you want to do that?” Kathryn questioned.

“Because maybe there’s something in these diaries that could identify her killer,” Cayden explained.

Kathryn began to laugh. “Do you really think that she might have written something down in her diary about who killed her? I mean, it’s kind of hard to come back from the dead and write the name of your killer in your diary,” she explained. “Come on, let’s have a look at it,” she pleaded.

“No,” Cayden responded. “Maybe she was having a problem with someone and she wrote it down. I’m turning it over to the police.”

“You’re no fun,” Gage Matthew commented. “I’m out of here. Hey, Kathryn, I’m heading down to get some pizza, wanna come?”

“Sure,” Kathryn said, but I want pineapple on mine.”

“Gross,” Gage said as he stepped out of the apartment.

Lingering by the door, Kathryn watched Cayden for a moment, then glanced at Julia’s diary. Hesitating, she pulled the door closed and followed Gage down the hall to the elevator.

Reaching for his cell phone, Cayden dialed 411 and waited for the operator. After requesting the non-emergency number for the police, he waited for the operator to give it to him and jotted it down on a pad and disconnected the call.

Slowly, he began punching in the telephone number but a crash in the kitchen caused him to stop and he rushed in to see Mr. Rocky Balboa covered in milk. He laughed. “What did you do?” He questioned as he reached for the paper towels and began sopping up the spilled milk.

“You bad little cat,” he joked as he tossed the towels into the trash. “Hmm… I better take this out,” he said, “I don’t want the whole place smelling like spoiled milk after a few days.” Reaching for the trash bag,” Cayden set about walking down the hall to the incinerator chute by the stairs.

When he opened the door, he found himself startled to see Devon James tossing her trash down the chute. She glanced back at him and rolled her eyes. “You’re still here,” she said.

“I’m still here,” Cayden acknowledged.

“Look, I’m just going to tell you this once. I was wrong for what I did earlier, but you don’t understand the whole story,” she explained as she stepped away from the chute.

“I think I do,” Cayden said as he tossed his bag down the chute. “You were best friends with the girl who used to live in my apartment and she was murdered about a month ago and the police still haven’t found her killer.”

“Who told you that?” Devon questioned, slightly angry.

“Jesse, Gage and this slightly crazy girl named Kathryn,” Cayden responded.

“Jesus Christ, the people in this building don’t know how to mind their own damned business,” Devon said as she pushed the door open and stormed into the hall.

“Wait up!” Cayden called out. “I didn’t mean to upset you, it’s just that the people that live here are kind of . . . strange. They walk into my apartment like it’s no big deal.”

“That’s because it wasn’t a big deal,” Devon explained. “We all walked into Julia’s apartment like that. That’s where we used to hang out. The others will get used to it, though. It’s only been a month since she died. Give them time.”

“Oh, I found something in the apartment,” Cayden said. “A diary and some letters. I think they’re Julia’s.”

Devon stopped in front of her door and turned around. Glancing at Cayden, she crossed the hall and pushed open his door, walking straight into his apartment. He followed, surprised that she had the audacity to do something like that.

“Where is it?” She questioned.

“Oh, I uh . . . I put it away,” Cayden explained. “I’m going to call the police and tell them about it.”

“Are you stupid?” Devon inquired. “They’ll only send Skubisz over to pick it up. He’s an asshole. Completely clueless and he has it in for Jesse.”

“For Jesse? Why?”

“Because he thinks Jesse killed Julia. The idiot actually believe that Jesse would do something like that. He’d have to be pretty wasted to stab Julia twenty times. He was in love with her, but for some reason Detective Skubisz pegged him at the killer and he refuses to even look at another suspect.”

“Wait, she was stabbed twenty times?”

“Give or take a stab,” Devon responded.

“But why does this guy think that Jesse did it?” Cayden questioned, wondering if perhaps he was in danger earlier when Jesse was in his apartment.

“Because Jesse found her body. He found the knife beside the tub and he grabbed it. He was stupid for doing that, but he didn’t kill her.”

“Wow. I can’t imagine how horrible that must have been,” Cayden said sympathetically.

“Where’s the diary?” Devon questioned, getting straight to the point. “I don’t have time for your bullshit.”

Slightly taken aback, Cayden stared at her suspiciously. “Why does everyone want Julia’s diary?” He questioned.

“What are you talking about?”

“First Gage, then Kathryn, now you. What is it that you people are looking for?”

“Gage and Kathryn know about the diary? Oh God, you have to give it to me before they get their hands on it,” Devon explained.

“Why?”

Rolling her eyes, Devon sighed. “Julia was my best friend, and there are some things she may have written in that diary that she wouldn’t want anyone to see. If you give it to me, I’ll just remove the parts that she wouldn’t want anyone to know about and I’ll give the rest to the cops.”

Cayden shook his head. “I don’t think so. You could be removing something important.”

“It’s just a goddamned diary, fruitcake!” Devon yelled. “So give me the damned thing already.”

“I um . . . no . . . I’m sorry,” Cayden managed. “I think you should leave. Please.”

Devon rolled her eyes. “Whatever,” she said as she left the apartment.

“Yes. Okay. I’ll be here,” Cayden said. “That’s fine. I’ll wait for the detective.” Pressing the end button on his cell phone, Cayden tossed it onto the couch and glanced over at Mr. Rocky Balboa. “The detective is on his way,” Cayden informed the cat.

“So what are we going to do while we wait for him.” He paused for a moment. “I know what I’m going to do,” he said as he got up. “Mom would kill me if she found out, but I packed dirty clothes,” he said with a grin as he stepped into the bedroom.

“There’s a shirt I want to wear tomorrow but it reeks. I guess I should wash it. What do you think Mr. Rocky Balboa?” He questioned as he stepped out of the room with a bag full of dirty clothes. The white cat simply yawned and stretched on the couch. “You don’t care, do you?” Cayden laughed.

“I’m just gonna run downstairs and throw this in the washing machine. Try not to spill any more bowls of milk while I’m gone,” Cayden said as he stepped into the hall and pulled the door closed behind him.

Walking down the hall, he stepped into the elevator and caught a whiff of a urine smell as the doors closed. Grimacing, he made the ride down to the basement in the jerky elevator and when the doors opened the elevator was six inches above the floor, causing Cayden to stumble and nearly lose his balance when he dismounted.

The basement of the building was dark with a few sparse light bulbs to illuminate the way. Cayden walked slowly and cautiously, all the while imaging a murderer around every corner just waiting to jump out and stab him twenty or thirty times.

“Relax,” he told himself. “you’re fine. No one wants to kill you. There’s no murderer down here.” As he walked, the lights seemed to flicker, making shadows seem to come alive in menacing ways. Quickening his step, he bolted into the laundry room and screamed and dropped his bag when he saw someone standing there.

“You should relax,” Jesse Martinez said as he folded his underwear. “All of that screaming probably isn’t healthy for you,” he added.

Embarrassed, Cayden reached down for his bag of dirty clothes. “Yeah, well this building isn’t exactly relaxation inducing. I have people walking into my apartment telling me that people were killed there.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Jesse responded. “It’s just that sometimes I get a little foggy when I have crazy dreams. They seem so real at the time that I have a hard time realizing that they were just dreams.”

“Yeah, I know what that’s like,” Cayden admitted. “I once had a dream that my parents bought me this nice new car and when I woke up, I ran outside to look at it, but it wasn’t there. Man, that dreamed seemed so real,” he sighed.

“I’ve been trying to convince myself that maybe it really was just a dream,” Jesse said as he reached for an undershirt and began folding it. “I mean, I know Julia’s dead and I know that paintings can’t come to life or anything, but I swear to God it was real. She said that you would help find her killer.”

“Did she say how?” Cayden questioned as he walked over to the washing machine. “How do these things works?” He questioned.

“You put your quarters in the slot and push it in,” Jesse responded. “She didn’t say how you would help, she just said that you would.”

“Interesting,” Cayden noted. “So I just dump my clothes in here and put quarters in this slot and that’s it?”

“Well, you gotta put in your detergent and separate the whites from the colors, but that’s about it, yeah.”

“Detergent?” Cayden questioned. “My mom does the laundry. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Smiling slightly, Jesse walked over to Cayden. “Okay, mamma’s boy, let me show you how to wash clothes . . .”

Sitting on top of the washing machine, Cayden eyed Jesse in silence as he folded his clothes. There was a sadness about Jesse Martinez that Cayden couldn’t explain. The man standing in front of him didn’t look like a killer. He looked like someone that was grieving.

“What?” Jesse questioned without looking up.

“I’m sorry?” Cayden responded.

“You’re staring at me,” Jesse explained. “What do you want to know?”

“Oh . . . I was just . . . nothing.”

“You’re gay,” Jesse said matter-of-factly.

“Excuse me?” Cayden questioned.

Glancing up from his laundry, Jesse looked over at Cayden. “You’re gay,” he repeated. “It’s cool with me, but I don’t swing that way.”

“I’m not . . . gay,” Cayden responded.

“Sure you’re not,” Jesse said with a nod.

Cayden paused for a moment. “How did you know?” He questioned softly.

“All the screaming could have something to do with it?”

“Well thanks,” Cayden grumbled, slightly embarrassed.

“I’m just teasing you,” Jesse apologized. “I don’t know how I know,” he explained, “I just do.”

“Are you psychic or something?” Cayden questioned.

“Do you believe in that?” Jesse redirected.

“I don’t know, I guess I never thought about it really,” Cayden answered honestly. “Yeah . . . I guess I do believe in that.”

“My grandmother used to tell me that I was different,” Jesse explained. “I would sit on her lap and she’d look down at me and tell me that I was different. Special. I don’t think I’m different or special. I don’t even think I’m psychic,” Jesse explained. “I just know things sometimes.”

“Like . . . me being gay?” Cayden questioned. “No one knows that, except my best friend Mason from back home. Not even my parents know,” Cayden explained.

“Why not?”

“They wouldn’t understand.”

“Maybe you should make them understand. Explain it to them. They might surprise you.”

“I don’t think so. All my mother ever talks about is me getting married and having children so that she can be a grandmother and show all of the other grandmothers pictures of her grandchildren. I don’t even want kids,” Cayden admitted.

“I do,” Jesse responded. “Well, I did. I wanted to have a baby with Julia,” he explained.

Pausing for a moment, Cayden glanced at Jesse. “I think maybe you are psychic,” Cayden admitted. “I found something in my apartment today,” he explained.

Jesse glanced up from his laundry. “What did you find?” He questioned.

“A diary and some letters,” Cayden answered.

“You found Julia’s diary?” Jesse questioned.

“Yes, I called the police. They’re coming over to pick it up.”

Jesse nodded. “Good,” he said. “it’s better that the police have it than someone else.” Picking up his laundry basket, he headed for the door.

“What do you mean?” Cayden questioned.

Pausing by the door, Jesse turned to glance at Cayden. “I think the person that killed Julia lives in this building,” he said before stepping out of the laundry room.

Glancing around the laundry room, Cayden felt an uncontrollable urge to run out and follow Jesse upstairs just so that he wouldn’t have to make the trip back alone. The idea of a killer living in his building was more frightening that anything he’d ever imagined.

“Relax,” Cayden told himself. “Breathe. You’re not a little kid anymore. He’s just trying to scare you,” he told himself as he hopped off of the washing machine after it stopped and opened to door. Pulling his clothes out, he set about putting them into the drier and heard the laundry room door open.

“What happened?” He questioned. “Did you forget your socks or something?” He added with a chuckle.

In the next moment, time seemed to stand still. Something had been thrown around Cayden’s neck and before he could react, it was being pulled tight, cutting off his air supply and leaving him in shock. He gasped for air, reaching up to his neck where his fingertips pressed against something hard.

A rope.

Something was holding a rope around his neck. Instantly, he realized what was happening. Someone was trying to kill him. He tried to pry the rope from his neck, but found that he couldn’t grab onto it.

“I want the letters,” a dry raspy voice whispered into his ear.

Reaching forward, he tried to grab something that he could use to fight off his attacker. Something that he could hit them with, but his hands knocked over the bottle of bleach, spilling it onto the floor.

He gasped and struggled as his eyes began to tear. “No,” he told himself, “This isn’t happening.” As he flailed about with his arms, he tried to break free and drove his elbow into his attackers side. The rope around his neck was instantly loosened and he breathed in deeply, coughing and choking as he stumbled backward and knocked his attacker over.

Scrambling for the door, Cayden threw it open and ran down the corridor, unable to scream. He stumbled, but picked himself up and continued to run. Glancing over his shoulder he couldn’t see anyone following him, but he kept running.

When he turned around to see where he was going, he stopped dead in his tracks and fell to his knees gasping with his hands reaching up to his next.

Standing in front him was a man, but Cayden’s eyes were drawn away from him and toward what was in his hands. The man was holding a gun.

"Cayden King?" The man said as he aimed his gun at him. "Are you Cayden King?" He questioned.

On the ground Cayden coughed and nodded his head. "Yes," he gasped. "Someone just . . . someone just tried . . . to kill me," he managed to say as he tried to gasp for air.

"Where are they?" the man asked.

"Back there," Cayden said. "I don't know who it was." He paused for a moment as he got to his feet. "Who are you?" He questioned.

"Detective Szymon Skubisz," the man explained. "I came by to pick up the evidence you found. Get behind me," Szymon said as he took a step past Cayden.

"Wait," Cayden said as he reached forward and grabbed Szymon's arm. "I don't want to stay here alone," he said.

Glancing down at his arm, Szymon slowly glanced up at Cayden. "Fine," he said, "but stay behind me."

"I don't know what happened," Cayden said, "One minute I'm doing laundry with Jesse and the next minute someone's trying to choke me."

"Jesse Martinez?" Szymon questioned.

"Yes," Cayden admitted.

"Kid, you're hanging out with the wrong crowd," he explained as they inched further down the poorly lit hall.

Hanging onto the detective for dear life, Cayden followed him to the laundry room door.

"In there," Cayden whispered.

With a nod, Szymon motioned for Cayden to stand back. The laundry room door was still open and Szymon peered into the room, holding his gun in front of him.

Without warning someone jumped out of the room and rushed at the detective. Cayden yelped and stumbled backward, crashing against the wall. Beside him, Szymon fell to the ground as someone struggled with him.

The light bulb ahead swung quickly back and forth. In the next instant Szymon Skubisz gun went off and Cayden King's world went dark.

The scuffle beside him ceased and Cayden heard footsteps running away. "What happened?" Cayden questioned in the darkness. "Detective Skubisz? Are you there?"

"My gun went off. It took out the lights," Szymon responded as he got to his feet. "They got away. Wait here," he said as he ran down the corridor.

"Wait!" Cayden called out. When Syzmon didn't respond, Cayden grew silent and sat in the darkness. A groaning sound nearby caused him to hold his breath and his eyes widened. He tried to tell himself that it was just a figment of his imagination. He didn't hear anything.

But when he heard the sound again, he trembled. Something was crawling toward him. He could feel his entire body shaking as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Something was coming at him.

"Cayden," a voice groaned, eliciting a yelp from the teenager. "What happened?"

"Jesse?" Cayden questioned through the darkness. "Jesse? Oh my God," he saw as he crawled over to the other man.

"Someone hit me," Jesse explained. "Did you hit me on the head?" Jesse groaned.

"It wasn't me," Cayden explained. "Someone was down here. They tried to choke me."

Down the corridor the sound of footfalls caught Cayden by surprise. "They're gone," Szymon Skubisz called out. "They used the back stairs. Cayden, are okay?" He questioned.

"I'm fine," Cayden called out. "They got Jesse too. They hit him over the head," he explained.

Approaching the two young mean, Szymon got down on one knee. "Are you sure you're okay?" He questioned.

Cayden nodded. "If you hadn't have come when you did, they couldn't have killed us," he said as he glanced up at Szymon.

"It's okay, they're gone," Szymon responded.

Turning back to Jesse, Cayden could just begin to make out the features of his face. "Do you know who it was?" Cayden questioned.

"I didn't get a look at them."

"Me either, they got me from behind," Cayden admitted.

"Me too," Jesse agreed.

"Do you know what they wanted?" Szymon inquired.

"They wanted Julia's diary," Cayden responded.

“It’s safe,” Szymon said as he stepped out of Cayden’s apartment and motioned for Cayden and Jesse to enter. Stepping into his apartment, Cayden glanced around. The cat has been laying on the sofa, but when he saw Cayden, he jumped off and walked over to him.

“Hey, Mr. Rocky Balboa,” Cayden said as he bent over and picked him up. “How ya been?”

Szymon glanced at Cayden, smirking slightly. “Mr. Rocky Balboa?” He questioned.

“Hey, don’t crack on his name, you’ll hurt his feelings,” Cayden said as he placed the cat back on the ground.

“Where did you find the letters?” Szymon questioned as he glanced around the apartment. Jesse watched him carefully, an expression of hate on his face.

“Over here,” Cayden said. “Gage helped me move to couch and I tripped on this floorboard,” he said as he removed the floorboard from the floor and stood back. It was in there,” he explained.

Szymon bent over and reached beneath the floorboards. “There’s nothing else in there,” he said as he stood up. “I guess the sweep of this room wasn’t thorough enough,” he said with a sigh.

“Maybe you were too busy trying to railroad innocent people,” Jesse muttered.

“I don’t need your attitude Martinez,” Szymon rejoined. “If your fingerprints weren’t all over the murder weapon there wouldn’t be a problem.”

“The problem is that you wasted your time trying to pin the murder on me and didn’t even think of looking for another suspect. Kind of makes you feel stupid now, doesn’t it?”

“Just shut your damned mouth,” Szymon demanded. “Cayden,” he said as he turned to the teenager. “I need the letters.”

“Okay. They’re in my room. Let me go and get them,” Cayden said softly as he headed for his bedroom door.

“Cayden,” Jesse said softly. Pausing, Cayden glanced back at him. “I told you she said you’d help,” Jesse whispered.

With a nod, Cayden slipped into his bedroom and walked into the bathroom. Bending down underneath the sink, he reached up and felt around for the diary and the papers. Grabbing them, he stood up and glanced down at them.

Jesse’s words echoed in his head. “I told you she said you’d help . . .”

Glancing at the door, Cayden paused for a moment.

Returning to the living room, Cayden handed Szymon Julia’s letters. “Is this all of them?” Szymon questioned.

Cayden nodded. “Yes. I don’t want any of them. Take all of them,” he said. “The farther I am from those letters, the better off I’ll be.”

Jesse stared at the letters in Szymon’s hands with a pained expression on his face at the thought of Julia’s letters being handed over to the man that thought he was guilty of her murder.

“Thanks a lot,” Szymon acknowledged. “There’s an officer posted downstairs,” he said. “If anything happens, give him a call,” he said as he handed Cayden a card. After hesitating, Szymon handed Jesse a card as well. “Oh, and here’s my card,” Szymon said as he handed it to Cayden.

“Thanks,” Cayden said as Jesse and Szymon headed for the door. “If anything turns up, I’ll give you a call,” he said as the two men stepped out of his apartment.

In the hall, Szymon stared at Jesse for a moment, then headed toward the elevator. Rolling his eyes, Jesse headed down the hall in the opposite direction. Once on the elevator, Szymon grabbed his cell phone and called into the station.

“It’s Skubisz,” he said, “I picked up the victim’s stuff from the apartment. Yeah, some kid found it while he was moving furniture. It’s just a bunch of letters wrapped in a rubber band, I don’t think we’ll get too much out of it, but it’s worth a shot if we can find her killer.”

Inside the apartment, Cayden King locked the door and turned toward his bedroom. Moving over to the bed, he sat down and stared at the nightstand. Working up the courage to lean forward, he slowly opened the drawer and peered down at Julia Taylor’s diary.