The morning started with the loud hum of the garage door below opening to allow the McCurdy's car out onto the street. Camilla's grumble more resembled a growl as she rolled over to look at the clock. Six thirty glowed with a sharp white light from the bedside table. She rolled back and huffed as she glared at the ceiling. Looks like there would be no sleeping in today.

Her glare did not recede through her shower. Her reflection glowering at her from the mirror as she performed her daily skincare. Her makeup. Her deep breathing and mantras. It was only when the cheap coffee she scrounged from the cabinet and almost burnt in the old coffee pot touched her tongue and slid down her throat that her features relaxed. Caffeine is really what made the world go 'round.

She unfolded yesterday's newspaper from the tidy square she had shaped it into and poured over the passage she had been reading at the diner. Marleen Shoefeldt's picture gazed from the front of the page, the passage below bemoaning her young age of twenty five and her devotion to her family. The author seemingly liked to wax poetic on all the details that didn't really matter and prattled on about Marleen's favorite café and the way she volunteered with local charities, as if those facts could capture her essence or explain her death. But beneath all the sentiment was something that didn't add up—a single line tucked between praises of her sweet nature that hinted at a final night out alone, a location undisclosed.

Camilla traced her finger over the sentence, as though she could draw the truth out through the ink. Why was a young woman, a creature of habit, wandering around on her own that night? If Marleen had been so devoted, what had pulled her out that night?

And where could a young woman go out to in a small town such as this?

After her first lackluster cup of coffee in the apartment, Camilla was determined to pick up better grounds from the local grocery store. Until then she needed a little better pick-me-up. A quick peek on her phone told her that a little coffee shop was within a reasonable distance from her new abode. She gathered her things and set out into the chilly morning. The walk to the shop was much the same as her walk to the McCurdy's, but with fewer and sleepier people. As she pushed open the door of "The Hanging Tree" -a rather unsubtle name- the smell of coffee beans hit her like a brick wall. The air inside the shop markedly warmer than the morning breeze that followed her through the door. A cursory glance showed this to be a fairly popular joint. A group of young people sat at a large booth on one end of the shop. More booths and tables with mismatched chairs were scattered throughout the floor with a few more patrons. The entire back wall was covered in jars of every kind of tea you could think of, the placards hand written in a curling script. There was even a tattered couch on the far wall by the counter that looked like it was home to cockroaches. Camilla approached the register counter and ordered a black coffee noting that the countertop was so old- and so covered in years of spilt coffee- that the wood was permanently sticky. She then took her new prize to a corner with a full view of the room her red case sitting nestled by her foot under the table. Snippets of conversation floated around her as she sipped the bitter drink.

Gary and Jen were on the outs again. They had been dating since middle school, but this might actually be the breakup –one of many- that actually stuck.

Chai tea as a term was incorrect. Chai was a word that meant tea, so saying chai tea was essentially saying tea tea.

What oddly mundane conversation in a town haunted by a serial killer. Camilla's eyes slid to the walls and the ceiling of the room. Every inch covered in art and stickers. Some spots of bare wall held the scrawls of peoples' names and small poems. This place oozed the character of local teenage angst. This must be where all the real cool kids hang out.

At that moment the door swings open again, and a young woman enters. A bright sundress covered in little yellow flowers hugs her curves belying the chilled morning, her hair a mess of curls that tumble down just past her shoulders. Her bright smile is open and inviting, a sense of sunshine follows her like a light over her shoulder. With a breezy laugh, the woman's voice seemed to cut through the stillness, brightening the space around her. She exuded a friendliness that made her an immediate magnet for others—an easy personality Camilla knew would serve her well. The barista smiles and greets the patron as an old friend. They begin a happy and easy conversation as the barista makes her drink.

When the woman is handed her drink she carries it to the add in station right next to the counter and begins adding extra sugar to her drink, a floral tea that tinges the water a soft pink. Camilla smoothly slides from her seat, her footsteps falling soft on the creaking floorboards as she glides over to Ellie. Setting her coffee cup on the edge of the small table, she flashes a welcoming smile. "I always think I can handle black coffee like they do on TV," she chuckles, stirring in a few extra sugar packets, "but the moment I take a sip, I want to cry."

The sunshine woman turns to her and giggles too, brushing a stray curl behind her ear. "I could never drink black coffee, the bitterness is just too much for me. You are braver than I am." She extends a hand. "I'm Ellie Thompson. I work at the bookstore down the street."

"Camilla," she replies, accepting the handshake and slipping into a natural rapport. "I just moved here."

Their hands part and she once again wraps her icy cold fingers around her hot tea cup. Camilla stirs her ruined coffee. "You must know a lot about town then. I have been looking for someone to give me advice on what there is for a young woman to do here in town."

Ellie brightens and tilts her head to the side. "Well I can certainly help you with that." Camilla points at the small table she was just sitting at inviting her new conversation partner to sit with her. As they both settle in their seats Camilla slid forward, leaning conspiratorially over the table.

"I just moved here from the big city and have been hoping there was something fun to do in this town. I have just found it difficult to find other people around my age to talk about it with."

Ellie's giggle sounded like the jingle of little bells, her small, thin fingers raised to cover her uplifted lips in a bashful gesture. This girl was the epitome of cute. Small and fragile in her little dress. A carefully curated image of femininity and purity. Camilla wondered just how freaky she might be behind closed doors.

"Well there are so many things to do, visiting my shop being the first!" She takes a small sip of her tea. "Other than that there is the Diner by the bus stop -a real greasy spoon! Uh, and then there is the cathedral by the courthouse. It has the most gorgeous architecture, it was built back in eighteen thirty five and has enormous stained glass windows. On Fridays we have a farmers market in the town square with booths for just about everything! But..." Her gaze falls to the side, her shoulders droop the tiniest bit, her cup rotates to the right. "It is a little uncomfortable going to the town square these days."

"Why is that?" Camilla cocks her head, curiosity alight in her eyes. Ellie shifts as if she is uncomfortable in her chair. Maybe even in her skin.

"The big memorial for all of the- the girls is there. Ya know the- the victims." Camilla backs off a little bit, leaning back in her chair letting concern etch lines onto her face. It was an expression she'd practiced, a perfect mirror of worry designed to coax trust from the wary. The air of conspiracy broken. "Well, honestly everyone keeps warning me about these murders-" Ellie flinches and rotates her cup again, biting her plump lip. "- It's... Unsettling."

Concern tinges her voice. Ellie shoots her her own look of concern. "Well to be honest everyone is spooked. We are all trying to keep positive but... it's been rough. This town isn't like the city- people here all know each other, you know? It has been really hard on the whole community." She keeps her voice low and soft, her eyes skip around the shop as if to check if anyone could be listening. "And, between you and me, some of us think there is more to it. Like, someone local might be... responsible."

Camilla raises her brows, dropping her voice to a near whisper as well. "Really? Who would...?" Ellie leans forward herself and lowers her voice even more. "I don't know, but..." Her pause seems to go on forever. Emotions flitting across her face as if she were having an inner battle. "Marleen was a good person. She was always at the church or helping her mom but..." Another pregnant pause and quick glance around the shop. "She was getting in with the wrong kind of people. Doing things that..."

She leaned back. "Well I won't speak ill of the dead. I'll leave it at that." She takes a slightly shaky sip of her tea. Camilla studied her for a moment, letting her have a small moment with her own thoughts.

"Where could these... bad types... be found? So I can be sure to steer clear." Ellie's eyes seem to flash in the fluorescent light. She didn't want to say.

"Please? I am brand new here and don't know a thing. I just don't want to make a stupid decision that could end up costing me my life when I just got here." It takes another beat, and Ellie lets out an exasperated breath. "Just don't go into the west side of town. It's not the best area, but it is where a couple of the victims lived. Including Marleen. And she was seen talking to people she shouldn't have."

The teacup was now empty and Ellie stood to go. "It was very nice to meet you. I hope you come to love Bitterroot as much as I do. Even though all of this is happening." And with that she turned and took her cup to the dish cart before quickly slipping out of the shop.

As she left, her usual glow diminished, Camilla looked forlorn after her. She had gotten the tiniest clue but more information sat just out of her reach.