Chapter 9 - Part 5
Autumn Berry – POV
We stayed in the club room long after everyone else would have gone home. The lights cast long shadows across the floor, and the quiet hum of the air conditioner felt almost deafening compared to the chaos in my mind. Selene's last poem lay in front of me, every word now heavier, each noun pulsing with importance.
Rhea paced slowly near the window, tapping her clipboard. "We have to treat this seriously. Selene has gone missing, and the poem is our only direct lead. Everything else is assumptions until proven."
I traced the poem's lines again. "The path curves under overgrown trees… a gate swings open… footsteps echo softly… Dust rises… keys left on the table… windows… hearth…" I paused. "She's not just describing objects. She's showing how to move through the space, in order. Step by step, room by room, so we don't miss anything."
Quinn leaned over my shoulder, eyes wide. "I still can't believe she did this. Leaving directions in a poem… and no one else would even notice."
Dorielle, sitting cross-legged on a chair, smirked. "Messy, dangerous, brilliant. She knew exactly who would see this and who wouldn't." She glanced at me. "And now it's our job to follow it. No pressure."
I swallowed hard. "If we misinterpret it, we could miss her completely. Or worse."
Rhea raised her hand, commanding attention. "First step: mapping. Autumn, Quinn, you two take every noun and map it against possible houses in the area. Don't jump to conclusions. Every gate, staircase, window—document it. We need the most accurate map possible before any approach."
Quinn nodded, immediately flipping open her notebook and pulling out a pencil. "Got it. Step by step."
I started writing, drawing lines connecting objects to possible locations I remembered Alex mentioning in passing, cross-referencing with campus maps and local streets. Gate… footsteps… dust… keys… Each word became a potential marker. My photographic memory replayed minor details from Alex's statements, even his expressions during the interrogation. Small twitches, eye movements, hesitation—subtle hints that only someone paying close attention would notice.
Liam, fingers flying over his laptop, added digital context. "I've pulled public security footage for the streets near Alex's apartment and any local businesses he might visit. I'm tracking movements, delivery schedules, and patterns that could intersect with the poem's timeline. If Selene is somewhere he frequents, we'll notice anomalies."
Theo scribbled behavioral notes in his own notebook. "People under stress move differently. If Selene is hiding or being held somewhere, or if Alex is nervous, there will be micro-expressions, pacing patterns, even slight changes in posture. We'll combine that with what Liam finds digitally."
Dorielle, still smirking, finally leaned forward. "Observation is my specialty. I'll handle interactions, watch for subtle cues from him or anyone connected to him. If he's hiding something, I'll know before anyone else."
Rhea nodded approvingly. "Perfect. This is a team effort. Each of you has a skill. Use it. Trust each other."
Hours passed as we plotted, mapped, and cross-referenced. Quinn's hands were covered in pencil marks, my notebook pages crowded with sketches and annotations, Liam's laptop lit the corner with endless charts and surveillance clips, and Theo muttered quietly to himself about timing and patterns. Dorielle occasionally leaned back, making dry remarks that kept the tension from completely suffocating us.
Finally, I sat back, rubbing my eyes. "The poem isn't random. The objects and movement are deliberate. Gate, footsteps, dust… it all leads somewhere inside a house. And the garden, the doors… she's giving us a trail to follow, not just a location."
Quinn's pencil hovered above her notebook. "So the house we're looking for… it has to match all of these elements. Anything else, and we risk a dead end."
Dorielle smirked again. "And the perfect house probably belongs to the most obvious suspect." She glanced at me knowingly. "We're circling Alex, aren't we?"
I nodded. "It's possible. He has access, familiarity, and the timeline fits. But we can't act on suspicion alone. We need proof."
Rhea's voice brought us all back to focus. "Tomorrow morning, we begin remote surveillance. Afternoon, we cross-check patterns, visit the neighborhood subtly, and observe human behaviors. Everything is connected. Don't rush, don't assume, and don't let anyone see us before we're ready."
I looked at the poem again, reading each line aloud softly. "The garden waits… doors stand ready… every nook preserves whispers of life inside… She left us a roadmap, deliberately hidden in poetry. This isn't just a clue—it's the only way to find her without endangering her."
Quinn whispered, almost reverently, "She trusted us… in a poem."
Dorielle grinned, finally serious. "Yeah, and now it's our turn to not screw it up."
The night deepened around us as we continued planning, documenting every detail. I felt the weight of the responsibility settle firmly on my shoulders. Selene had left breadcrumbs in words, and every move we made now had to be precise. Missteps weren't just mistakes—they could be irreversible.
The clock was already ticking.
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The early morning air was crisp as we approached the house, each of us quiet, minds focused. Quinn and I carried our notebooks, fingers tracing every object from Selene's poem. Liam had his laptop open, already monitoring nearby cameras and digital activity. Theo carried a small medical kit, just in case, while Dorielle and Rhea led the way, eyes sharp for any sign of movement.
"Remember," Rhea said, "this isn't just observation anymore. If we misstep, she could be in danger. Follow the poem. Trust each other. Stay calm."
The gate loomed ahead, just as Selene had described. I froze for a moment, my photographic memory replaying the lines: *A gate swings open, welcoming the quiet.* I whispered the next steps to Quinn. "Footsteps echo softly along wooden floors… Dust rises where sunlight touches the rug… Keys left on the table beside a chair."
We moved carefully, keeping our presence hidden. Liam was giving updates quietly through an earpiece. "Alex left for work. No neighbors outside. Clear path to the house."
Dorielle smirked but kept her tone low. "Perfect. Time for our meticulous little plan to pay off."
Inside, the house was eerily quiet. Every creak of the floorboards seemed louder than normal. I led the way through the rooms, mapping each object as Selene had described: staircase, hearth, corners, windows. Everything fit.
Then we heard it—a muffled sobbing from upstairs. Theo motioned for us to freeze. "Medical attention may be needed," he whispered.
Rhea nodded. "Autumn, Quinn, follow the poem to the sound. Dorielle and I cover the exits. Liam monitors all digital paths."
We ascended the narrow staircase, careful to tread lightly. The cries grew louder as we approached one of the empty rooms Selene had mentioned. And there she was—Selene, sitting on the floor, hands tied loosely but unharmed,A tape around her lips, eyes wide with relief when she saw us.
"Selene!" I breathed, rushing forward. Quinn followed, gently helping untie her hands. "We found you. You're safe now."
Her voice was shaky. "T-thank you for saving m-me, I thought I'm going to die."
Dorielle rolled her eyes but a small smile tugged at her lips. "You could have screamed or left a note. Instead, you made us work. Classic Selene."
Selene's lips curved into a weak smile. "I couldn't my lips were taped up girl."
Rhea came forward, placing a reassuring hand on Selene's shoulder. "You're safe. That's what matters. We'll take you home now, and then the authorities handle the rest."
Alex appeared at the door, his face pale, eyes red from crying. "H-how did y'all…" he stammered.
Theo stepped forward gently. "No assumptions yet. Let's get her out safely first."
As we led Selene out, I noticed Alex's guilt mixed with fear—he hadn't harmed her, but his actions, fights, and silence had contributed to her being trapped. The evidence would sort itself out later.
Outside, the morning sun shone through the trees. Selene's parents and friends were waiting, rushing forward to embrace her. Relief washed over me in a wave I hadn't expected.
Quinn nudged me. "We did it. We actually found her. She's safe."
Dorielle crossed her arms, smirking but softer than usual. "Not bad for a freshman and her Dora sidekick."
"How dare you call me Dora?" Quinn raised her right eyebrow.
I laughed softly, notebook clutched to my chest. "We all did it. Together."
Rhea approached, clipboard in hand, but her eyes softened. "Good work, team. This isn't just about finding a missing person—it's about observing, deducing, trusting each other, and following the clues. You all did perfectly."
Selene turned to me, tears in her eyes. "Thank you… Autumn. You noticed the clues before anyone else did. I… I knew someone would find me and rescue me."
I shook my head. "No, you left breadcrumbs that only someone paying attention could follow. You helped us help you."
The rest of the day passed in quiet relief. We documented every detail, made sure Selene received care, and finally allowed ourselves a small moment of celebration in the club room. Dorielle teased everyone relentlessly, Quinn tried to make cookies for everyone, Liam quietly edited footage to create a detailed timeline, and Theo made sure everyone was hydrated and checked for exhaustion.
By evening, the tension had lifted. The missing girl case was officially closed. We had worked as a real team—each of our skills mattered. And for the first time, I felt like more than just a freshman. I felt like a real member of the club, ready for whatever the next mystery might throw at us.
END OF CHAPTER 9