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books. Are you studying all of them?”
    “I like to be prepared.” My eyes remain on the sheet in front of me.
    “I get it.” He plucks a packet from his book bag and starts taking some notes.
    We continue like this for what feels like hours, studying, sighing, and taking notes in silence. Only twice, I catch his eyes on me. But, for the most part, it’s nice. For once, it’s nice not being alone.

My hand hovers over the pause button. The screen before me is swimming, the long nights finally catching up with me. I rub my eyes once more and glare at the small television screen I’m watching. The figures blur before me and fade into shadows. One would think the most popular bar on The Ave would be able to afford night vision cameras. Instead, I’m forced to study the faces through scattered, revolving lights.
    The tall and lanky Mr. Connor peeks his head into the room. “How’s everything going in here, John?”
    I didn’t even have to flash a badge for him to offer up his security footage. “No luck yet.” My fingertips rub at my temples again.
    “You should really get some sleep. Feel free to take these home and watch them later.” He takes a step into his small office through the kitchen.
    I groan. “Yeah, maybe I will. Thanks, Boss.”
    “No problem. See you Friday night.” With a wave, he leaves me and I turn back to the screen.
    There she is . I pause when I see her blonde hair swish across her back, making her way to the bar. Automatically, I lean in closer, as if that would somehow make the picture clearer. Her ginger-haired friend is beside her for a little bit. They dance and giggle with a pair of drinks in hand. A man approaches them. I freeze, until he strikes up a conversation with the redhead. After that, it’s pretty much Becca on her own. She dances by herself for a while, barely ever leaving her friend’s side. She orders another drink. I watch closely; the bartender was Rick. He’s a player, but he doesn’t have to resort to dropping things in girls’ drinks. The lights shift again and I suddenly lose her. That friend of hers is still by the bar, engaged in a very public display of what I can only describe as a form of foreplay.
    My finger switches to the fast forward button, face inches away from the screen, eyes searching for Becca in the sea of people.
    “Where is she?” I mutter to myself. “Come on.”
    Suddenly, she creeps onto the screen. On each side of her stands a male companion. One is skinny and short, the other tall and lean. She’s laughing, and doesn’t look to be in danger. Did I make a mistake? Could she have just been drunk?
    I watch wide-eyed when they take her to the bar. The taller one orders the drinks, the other roping her into conversation. She laughs again, blonde hair tumbling down her back. Beside Becca, the one grabbing the drinks – there it is! He reaches into his pocket and the picture is a little shitty, but his hand hovers over the edge of her drink. I swear I see him drop something in it. I knew it!
    I have to take this video into evidence. Maybe they can enlarge the scene and figure out exactly what he added. I don’t really have much faith with the picture quality shaky.
    I hit eject and pull the CD out of the security computer. After throwing it into a case, I slip out of the office, through the bustling kitchen, and into the busy restaurant. I’m passing the bar when I notice Rick behind it.
    I make a beeline for him. He glances up immediately, a look of alarm crossing his face. “Rick.”
    “Hey, Smith. I almost didn’t recognize you in uniform. What brings you in?”
    “Work.” I sigh, leaning against the marble bar. “You were working Friday night, right?”
    “I work like every night,” he mutters, popping open a beer and placing it on a tray.
    “There was a girl here; blonde hair, blue eyes, and a redheaded friend.”
    “Oh, I know the redhead, alright.”
    “You do?”
    “Yeah, she’s here all the time. Megan, I think her