“We got a call in about an hour ago. Can't figure it out. Come by soon?” I heard the voice saying. My phone beeped to say she hung up. I looked around. Where was I? The room was dark and my vision, blurry, yet I made out my antique lamp across the room. And my grandmother's favorite chair beside that. I was in my living room. The front door was wide open, letting a cool breeze sweep in. I searched the room. It couldn't be any later than 5 in the morning, it was still dark outside. A car buzzed by. I reached my hand up to the switch and the lamp flickered on. The light illuminated the empty beer bottles, broken into pieces on the ground. My eyes shut. I saw a flash of the night. A car. It was gone. I peered at my bare legs, they were covered in dirt. “Who am I?” I thought. I am Detective Aria Maddox, the prime private investigator of San Fransisco. That's who. But what happened. “What happened” I repeated again. My mind was blank. Another flash.  That car. That same car. Swoosh. Gone. What happened. I searched my mind for the answer, but an answer I could not find.  I looked down at my arm; I was shivering. Goose bumps crawled up my arm, and a cool breeze flushed over my face. In my hand I held a bottle, empty like the others. “I don't drink” I thought.  I never drink.

“Detective Maddox, how nice to see you. Started to think you weren't showing up.” It was that same voice.
“We both know I'd never back away from a crime. Someone has to solve it for you,” I replied, slowly walking up to the body. I bent down. My thick coat hiding the bruises of last night. She stood up and stepped toward the entry of the room, he stride long and powerful. She turned back toward me and then pointed to the door. My eyes followed her finger.
“It was locked.”
“But the door's perfectly intact. That's not possible.  There's no other entry way.”
“And the rooms clean. No DNA.”
“None?”
“None.” Her face was stiff but I sensed uncertainty. “Dad called in around four claiming he was waking her up for her job and he couldn't get in, the door was locked. She was the only one with a key to the door so he called us. We came, opened the door and found her laying here, dead.”
“And the key? Where is it?”
“Dad said it was in the dresser but we couldn't find it.” I looked back down at the body. “Her name is Autumn Hillcrest, she was seventeen.” Her face was pale, her eyes a shocking blue and stuck wide open. Gorgeous jet black hair framed her freckle-less face. Her petite nose, doll like lips and thin face gave her an effortless beauty.
“Any relationships?”
“Not any we know of.” Her thin delicate body was bruised and scared as if she had been beaten a thousand times over. I turned her head.
“Hit in the back of the head?”
“Yes.” I searched the wound. Shards of glass surrounded it and lay strewn out upon the floor.
“What with?”
“A bottle most likely.” A flash. A Car. A girl. Gone. “Are you okay, Detective?” she asked.
“Fine,” I replied. “So someone has the key to her room. They got mad, came in, drunk most likely, and hit her on the back of the head. But who, and why?” I searched the room once a again. It was almost empty. A  dresser, a lamp, and a bed with a half packed suit case on top of it. “Suspects?”
“Dad or a friend with a rough history between them. She has no known ties to any gangs or drugs.”
“The Dad.”
“What?”
“The Dad, he did it.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Autumn was planning to run away. Why? Abusive father. The bruises say it all. Dad gets mad, drinks a little, and comes to talk to her. Conversation gets heated, dad gets real mad, starts hitting her. She turns away to run from the blows and boom back of the head, girl is dead. Dad feels bad, finds key, locks the door from the outside to make it seem like he didn't do it, hides the key, and calls the police. Simple.” I stood up and smiled as the feeling of satisfaction coursed through my blood. “We just have to find the key and match the DNA to his.”
“You never fail to impress me Maddox. And the boss wanted me to tell you again, if you want to take time off , it would be completely understandable.”
“I told her, I'm fine. I don't need time off.”
“Aria, as your friend, I'd recommend it. Going through a separation is tough, especially when you have a relationship like you and Max did.”
“He cheated on me. I'm not going to let him win by taking time off and mopping around.” I replied, “I'm moving on.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” I said. But then I felt weak. I saw her face. A beautiful young girl. Her dark hair and blue striking eyes. Her face haunted me. I collapsed to the ground. A flash. A car. A girl. Him. Her. I screamed at them. Yelling and screaming and crying and drinking. I was drinking. Then it was gone. I opened my eyes and stared up at the emptiness.
“Take some time off Detective.” she said sternly, “You need it. I'll call you if we find anything.”

I sat in my grandma's favorite chair, murmuring the lyrics to a song I'm not even sure I knew. My arm hung off the side of the chair, a bottle of beer in my hand. Hours passed. I missed him. I missed his face and his warm hugs. His perfect nose, and his flawless teeth, and his deep brown eyes, and his medium brown hair. His smile that could light up a room. He was the most beautiful person I ever met. He was the best thing that ever  happened to me. And the worst. He was the worst thing that ever happened to me. I hurled the bottle across the room right at the picture of us. The  glass broke into millions of pieces as my head collapsed into my hands, tears streaming down my face. How could he. How could have hurt me like that. The girl he loved so much. We were meant for each other. Together forever. A flash. A car. A girl. Him. Her. I screamed at them. Yelling and screaming and crying and drinking. I was drinking.  I was at a house. My hands, gloved. They ran in the house. Smack. Crash. Gone.
I looked down at my arms, shaking, shivering, bruised. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror across the room. I was not like her. No, she was better. I was bland, dirty, and a mess. Bags under my eyes, tear streaks on my cheeks, all I could do was cry and drink. I hadn't slept for days. She was young. She was beautiful. He loved her.
  I heard a knock on my door . I didn't answer. I couldn't. My mouth was dry and my body weak. I didn't have to answer. She came in with him. They stared at me. “We found the key,” she said. Her eyes searched the room while his stayed set on me. “It didn't have Autumn's father's DNA though.”
They walked further in and shut the door behind them. He looked down at the ground, melancholy.
She pulled up two chairs for them and they sat, staring at me. 
“Autumn,” I said as I fell to the ground. A flash. A car.  I drove up to her house; I was drunk. I was mad. I held a bottle in my gloved hand. There I saw them. Him and her. So in love. Ready to run away together. So in love.  I ran at them, with all the furry and anger I had built up pouring out of me. They ran. They hid. I followed. I screamed and cried and yelled and drank. I hated them. I hated what they did to me. I hit. I threw. He tried to hold me back. To stop me. She fell. Crash. Autumn. It was  gone, but I remembered. I opened my eyes to see his face looking down at me. I lay in his arms. I looked into his eyes.
“You knew,” I said. “Why didn't you tell?”
“I couldn't,” Max replied.
“What did he know” she asked.
“I killed Autumn.”