Inside George Harvey's house, the scene was wrapping up. Evidence bags lay neatly cataloged, crime scene techs moving carefully through the basement where the safe had been pried open. The recovery of Susie Salmon's remains had been grim, brutal, and left an unshakable weight in the air.Lisbon stood near the kitchen, flipping through Harvey's grotesque scrapbook—photos, hair, and his handwritten confessions pressed into every page. Her voice was low, edged with disgust."They were able to catch a monster. One who's been killing for decades right under everyone's nose."
Grace stood beside her, arms crossed, her expression somber."At least now he's caught. And honestly… their Outcast abilities are being put to good use."
Patrick lounged against the counter, looking like he belonged at a casual brunch instead of a crime scene. His eyes, however, gleamed with thought.
"Maybe," he said casually, "we could bring those two in on the Moon light Serial Killer case."
Lisbon's brow furrowed, immediately bristling. "Patrick…"
But he cut her off, his tone smooth and insistent, his smug smile never quite fading."All I'm saying is, fresh eyes matter. Which is why we should bring my nephew in. And the girl—Wednesday. Between the two of them, they might cut through what the rest of us keep tripping over."
Lisbon bristled immediately."You can't be serious. They're kids. We're talking about a serial killing case that's been stone cold for six years. This isn't some trick you pull at the carnival—this is dangerous."
Jane tipped his head, letting the smile linger in that infuriating way of his.Jane: "I know Aleksander. He notices things most people don't. And Wednesday… she's sharper than me on a bad day. Possibly even a good one."
Lisbon angrily retorted."That's exactly the problem. They shouldn't be anywhere near a case like this. It's not any ordinary killer anymore—it's layered, a political mess that people higher up don't even want solved."
This case was a huge political mess back then, no one wanted to touch it.
The smile faded slightly from Jane's face, his tone softening as he leaned forward just enough for her to know he was serious."Which is why we're stuck. You feel it, Teresa. Too many strings pulled, too many shadows. If we keep playing by their rules, this case rots in the file cabinet another six years. Maybe longer. But if we bring in people who aren't playing at all…"
He let the thought hang there.
Lisbon exhaled slowly, her green eyes steady on him. She hated when Patrick was right, and she could feel he wasn't joking this time.
Grace glanced between them, her voice gentle but firm."He has a point, Lisbon. Aleksander and Wednesday already proved themselves here. Maybe they're exactly who we need."
Lisbon closed the scrapbook and looked back toward the basement, her jaw tight."I'll think about it. But if anything happens to them, Jane, it's on you."
Patrick smiled faintly, almost smug, but with just enough earnestness behind it."Wouldn't have it any other way."
The Detective Agency had gained some local attention, but nothing noteworthy came of it. For weeks, it was all lost pets, missing deliveries, and the occasional jealous spouse. Wednesday found the monotony insulting.
That changed at Nancy Reagan High School. A muffled noise from Pugsley's locker drew her attention. Opening it, she discovered her brother bound and gagged with an apple jammed in his mouth. She untied him, and the moment skin met skin, a vision snapped into her mind—faces of his attackers, distorted by cruel laughter.It didn't take long for her to plan their punishment. During water polo practice, she confronted the team. Dalton, their captain, sneered a typical high-school insult her way—until her eyes flicked toward the two mesh bags in her hands. His bravado evaporated. Before anyone could intervene, she loosed dozens of piranhas into the glistening pool. Chaos erupted.The injuries were superficial, the screams were not. The administration was less forgiving. Wednesday found herself expelled, with mandatory court-ordered therapy tacked on as an aftertaste.
Later, sitting with Aleksander, she brooded silently over the outcome. "A disappointing result. I was hoping for at least one amputation. Instead, I got probation and a shrink."
Aleksander offered her a small, earnest smile."You did great. As an older sister, I mean."
She turned her sharp gaze on him, voice flat and questioning."Do we have any actual cases? Or will I be forced to waste more time defending Pugsley from self-inflicted disasters?"
Aleksander held up a hand."One second. I—I wanted to get your opinion before I said yes. My uncle reached out with an offer."
Wednesday's expression shifted, curiosity flickering in her dark eyes though her tone stayed dry."If he's asking us to babysit lost cats, I'll strangle him with their leashes."
Aleksander shook his head, voice lowering slightly."No. This is real. It's with the California Bureau of Investigation. They're reopening a cold case—it's been dead for six years. A serial murder investigation. Complicated. Political. My uncle thinks we could help."
Wednesday's lips curved, the barest ghost of a smile—one that promised menace."At last. Something worthy of my time. The dead rarely bore me. The living usually do."
As Aleksander left to take a call, Thing scuttled onto the desk, fingers tapping rapidly in agitation. He gestured wildly, signing emphatic complaints with crisp flicks of his knuckles.
Wednesday didn't bother to look up right away. She continued sharpening her blade against a whetstone, the metallic rasp underscoring her words."If this is about the piranhas… spare me the lecture. Your moral compass is as flexible as a corpse's spine. Don't pretend otherwise."
Thing slapped the desk for emphasis, fingers curling into sharp reprimands."Yes, yes. I know. Expelled. Court-ordered therapy. A black mark on my already pristine record. How tragic."
He signed faster, accusatory jabs toward her, almost like a scolding parent.
Wednesday cuts him off, deadpan."Don't take that tone with me. They deserved worse. I was merciful. Which, in hindsight, was my first mistake."
Thing paused his tirade. Slowly, he crawled closer, tapping her wrist gently—softer now, almost supportive.Wednesday's hand stilled over the whetstone. She glanced down at him, her expression unreadable."You worry too much. Pugsley is alive, the jocks are mostly intact, and I remain unrepentant. That's what passes for a victory in this cheerful little town."
Thing signed carefully—something about her putting herself at risk.Wednesday let the smallest smile ghost across her lips before burying it beneath her usual mask of disdain."If I fall, I fall. But I assure you—I won't drown in a swimming pool. I'll choose my own stage, and my own ending. That's a promise."
Thing tapped twice—firm, final—before crossing his fingers in a gesture of reluctant faith.Wednesday turned back to her blade, resuming the rasp of steel on stone."Good. Then we're in agreement. Now stop sulking. It's unbecoming… even for a severed hand."
Thing responded with a dry little "finger shrug" before skittering off.