1. | INDIGO [S. STILINSKI]

chapter twenty-five: [raving regrets]

               "I'm sorry."

    Indigo's POV

    I sat in Sheriff's office next to Stiles, picking up another fry and swiping it in ketchup. Stiles had invited me last moment to eat with him and his dad, probably to relieve tension of his recent restraining order.

Sheriff bit into his sandwich and immediately groaned. "Oh, what the hell is this?"

    "Veggie burger." Stiles smiled proudly, popping open his salad container. I laughed and ate my fry.

"Stiles," His dad groaned. "I asked for a hamburger."

    "Well, veggie is healthier." Stiles shrugged. "We're being healthy."

Sheriff sighed and went to open his fries, but instead found celery sticks. "Oh, hell, are you trying to ruin my life?"

     "I'm trying to extend your life, okay? Could you just eat it, please?" Stiles scoffed. "And- tell me what you found."

   "Indigo got fries." Sheriff grumbled, making me chuckle. He shook his head at his son.

"And no, I'm not sharing confidential police work with a teenager."

   Stiles sighed, looking behind him at the board. I followed, seeing strings attached to photos of the victims.

"Is that it on the board behind you?" I asked. Sheriff shook his head.

   "Don't look at that."

"Wha-" Stiles tried, sitting up in his seat as he tried to see above his dad's head.

     "Avert your eyes." His dad moved in front of him.

"Just- it's, I see arrows-" He moved more around his dad. "Pointing to pictures."

    "Okay, stop!" His dad sighed. "Fine, I found something."

   Stiles grinned and sat back down normally, making me shake my head.

"The mechanic and the couple who were murdered. They all had something in common."

    "All three?" Stiles asked.

"Yeah. You know what I always say." His dad nodded.

  "One's an incident. Two's coincidence. Three's a pattern." Stiles recited.

"The mechanic, the husband, the wife- all the same age. All 24." His dad leaned back in his chair.

   "Wait," Stiles eyebrows furrowed. "What about Mr. Lahey? I mean, Isaac's dad wasn't anywhere near 24."

  "Which, made me think-" Sheriff shrugged. "Either, A: Lahey's murder isn't connected, or B: the ages were a coincidence."

     We both nodded in silence.

  "Until, I found this." Sheriff grunted, opening a drawer and pulling out a file. "Which would be C."