The man stood under the awning just outside the cheap motel to get out of the rain. He kept going back and forth between looking at his phone and leaning forward to get a good look at the parking lot. After about fifteen minutes of this, he saw a familiar car pull up. When the woman parked, she rushed outside with an umbrella and met the man under the awning where they began to passionately kiss and grope each other in ways that weren’t acceptable in public. Once they were satisfied enough to briefly separate, they moved into the motel room nearby. Unbeknownst to the couple, the tryst was caught on camera.

“This shit is boring as hell,” Alysa Saraki returned the camera to the bag.

Farrell Creed sat in the driver seat of his truck and scoffed, “Did you think PI work was all weird cults and monsters?”

“In Winghaven? Yeah, kinda.”

“Sometimes I deal with that. Other times, I’m taking pictures for some housewife who wants proof that her husband is screwing her sister.”

“Yeah, but this is kinda sus. We’re getting paid to take pictures of these two and what’s gonna happen to that family once we hand them over to the wife?”

“Christmas is gonna be awkward as hell but hey, those two lovebirds in there should’ve thought about that before they had the affair.”

“Yeah, well, we got the pictures we needed, right?,” Alysa yawned and sat back in her seat, “Can you drop me off at the temple?”

“Sure.”

Alysa arrived at the Iseda Temple where she planned to burn incense in preparation for her upcoming graduation. She deeply wished her mother could have made it; what’s more, she was unsure of what to do after leaving high school and her mother’s guidance would have helped. As expected, Mama Johnson materialized behind her, “Would you like to be blessed today, Alysa?,” she asked. Alysa nodded and knelt down as Mama Johnson brought a stick of incense down across each shoulder and the head before clapping her hands and holding out her palms. They meditated together for a while until Alysa rose to her feet, “Thank you.”

“I know we haven’t gotten off on the right foot,” she told Alysa, “You miss your mother and there is nothing I could ever do to replace her, nor is that what I want. We were sent here to ensure you and the rest of our Winghaven people were safe. I think we’re all trying to adjust to the new normal.”

“Yeah, that’s true. Sorry if I’ve been bougie lately.”

“You have a lot on your mind these days and it’s actually good fortune you’re here. We’ve been meaning to ask something. You know we’re trying to build a new community center. We’d like to offer you a job as an organizer after you graduate. We understand you helped your mother organize food drives and such.”

“I did,” she crossed her arms in front of her, “It’s really nice of you to offer but I have a job right now.”

“Oh, really? What are you doing?”

“I’m, uh,” she stammered a bit, knowing full well Mama Johnson wouldn’t like the answer, “I’m doing some PI work after school… with Farrell Creed.”

She pursed her lips in disappointment but otherwise tried to hide her disdain, “PI work can be very dangerous and expose you to some things that are best left unseen. As I’ve said, I know that Mr. Creed means a lot to you, but he doesn’t reflect what I believe to be a positive influence in your life.”

Alysa bit her tongue, knowing this was part of Mama Johnson’s desire to protect her. Instead of asking her to mind her own business, she gave a simple reply, “It’s only temporary until I complete my training,” then she added, “I know I still have to do that.”

“Well, just so you know, if you work with us for the new Community Center, it would go a long way to finishing your priestess training,” she raised a single eyebrow, almost as if daring her to make an argument.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Alysa said as she left the temple, “Thanks, again.” Alysa angrily walked back to her home. She wanted to become a priestess but at the same time, she didn’t want it used as leverage. She almost preferred the boredom of another affair stakeout.

In Creed’s office, he emailed the photos to his client and began setting up to close. It was night now and he didn’t expect to get any more business for the day. A moment later, however, a thin man with long hair entered.

“Hey, you still open?,” the man asked.

“I can be,” Creed sat back at his desk, “What can I do for ya?”

“My name’s Larry. I own Winghaven Antiques.”

“Right. Down on Lincoln?”

“Yeah. I was doing inventory tonight and realized something’s missing. It was a kalliope, uh… an old music box from the 40s. It belonged to a World War 2 vet who passed away and I picked it up at an auction.”

“Worth a lot?”

“I got it for over a thousand bucks. On the internet, these things go for a lot more.”

“And this is the only thing missing?”

“Yeah, and on top of that, there weren’t any signs of a break in or anything. Someone did a good job of sneaking in and taking off with it.”

“Any idea who might be interested in it?”

Larry sat down across from his desk, “That’s kind of why I came to you. Last week, some guys came in about an hour before I closed,” he braced himself, “They didn’t look friendly and the biggest one had a bald head and two full sleeves of tattoos. I pretended not to look but I noticed the swastika eventually. So,… yeah, they were skinheads. They were interested in the music box but they didn’t have enough cash with them and I guess they didn’t have debit or credit cards or anything like that. Besides that, I didn’t wanna do business with them… for obvious reasons.”

“Makes sense. Did they threaten you or anything?”

“Not… as such. They were eyeballn’ me and making me pretty nervous, though. It’s hard to explain. They didn’t like that I didn’t accept their offer but they left without incident, too.”

“The music box was from the 40s and was owned by a World War 2 vet. Any chance it was some Nazi shit? Ya think maybe the vet did a tour in Europe and brought it back home?”

“The kalliope is German so it might have some importance to Neo-Nazis but I don’t know exactly what it might be. I don’t know that they took it and I don’t really have enough evidence to go to the cops, so…”

“I can look into it.”

There was a small, 15 acre compound on the outskirts of the town’s city limits, just off a highway. The land was bought quietly by an unknown buyer and the compound was nondescript enough that many people didn’t notice until certain characters began coming and going from it. It didn’t help that, for a hate group, they were not very vocal, not that there were many complaints regarding Neo-Nazis keeping to themselves. They weren’t known for theft but it seemed like a logical place to start. The following afternoon, Creed parked at the end of the dirt road leading up to the compound. He had made the mistake of letting Alysa know where he was going and she insisted on coming along after school.

“I know the last case was boring and all but are you sure you wanna be here?,” Creed asked as they walked up to the barb wire fence surrounding the homestead, “It goes without saying but these guys ain’t gonna be happy when they see you.”

“I’m count’n on all that,” Alysa said happily, “In fact, I hope they start some shit so I have an excuse to whup a Nazi’s ass.”

Creed shrugged, “Fair ‘nough.”

The fence was locked and there was a very prominent sign that read Trespassers will be shot. Next to the sign was an intercom system and camera. Creed pressed the buzzer and waited for someone to show up while making the occasional glance around the property. “This place don’t seem to be guarded all that well,” Alysa took note that there was no sign of anyone in or around the area. “Try to focus on the inside of the compound,” Creed told her, “I wanna know who or what we’re dealing with and how many of them there are.” “Hold on,” she closed her eyes and concentrated. As she did this, Creed watched the front door slowly open and a thin man in fatigues poke his head out and cautiously survey the area before exiting. He had a rifle slung over his shoulder and seemed to be trying his best to stare Creed and Alysa down as he approached.

“The hell you want?,” the guard asked.

“I’m a private investigator,” Creed began, then motioned toward Alysa, “And this is my -“

“I said what the hell you want?,” the guard said again, his voice rising to a slightly more aggressive tone.

“We’re looking for a stolen music box and have reason to believe someone here might have -“

“Nobody here knows noth’n about no antique music box!”

Alysa’s eyes opened, “Are you sure? Can we talk to someone inside?”

“Nobody here wants to talk to you, that’s fer damn sure,” he snapped racistly.

“The music box was German,” Creed continued, nonplused, “1940s. I understand you boys have a fondness for that particular era.”

“Real funny. I just said no one knows anything about what you’re looking for,” the guard ran his hand along the strap of his rifle menacingly, “Now, we want you to get the hell off this property.”

“Thanks for your time,” Creed nodded politely.

“Excuse me for darkening your door,” Alysa said with a wry smile.

They ventured back toward the truck and even though they didn’t look back, they knew the guard was watching them, likely still clutching his weapon. “I asked the guy about a music box,” Creed said quietly, “His response was that he ‘didn’t know nothing about an antique music box’. I never said it was antique, which means he definitely knows something.”

“Wanna hear something even weirder,” Alysa stopped at the driver’s side of the truck, then looked back at the compound to see the guard finally returning to the building, “I tried to sense the number of souls inside and I only caught one, which I assume to be his.”

“He kept talk’n like there were a lot of people in there.”

“There’s no one else inside that compound unless they’re dead.”

“It’s worth checking out,” Creed hopped in the driver’s seat, “I don’t think you’ll get bored with this one.”