Big T stooped to pet the cat, rubbing it behind its left ear as it purred loudly and leaned against his leg.

“Well, this is it, buddy. What’s on this piece of paper is the most important thing I’ll ever read. This could turn everything around for me.”

The cat let out a loud meow and stared at him for a minute, as if to agree with him then it sat back on its haunches and started to clean its paws, pausing briefly to look at some long blades of grass swaying in the light breeze.

Big T slid his finger under the flap on the envelope slowly, careful not to rip anything. He gently pulled out the piece of paper inside, unfolded it, and started to read the results he'd waited a lifetime for.

He stared numbly at the piece of paper for a few minutes, his face getting redder with every passing second, then he crumpled the paper into his fist, making a ball, turned, and threw it at the brick wall next to him, startling the cat. The cat let out a loud meow and ran away through the fence and into the overgrown weeds, leaving Big T alone staring at the crumbled wad of paper. The red DNA lab logo was still visible, glaring at him, taunting him.

Not a match, it had said. How could that be? How was this possible? He couldn’t even question the results, it said it was 99.9999 percent accurate.

He stamped his foot on the ground with a loud thud as his boot hit the cement. Nothing ever went right for him. Nothing! Since birth! Even before he was born, for that matter! Well, that’s okay. He’d make it right. At least now, he knew for sure. He had nothing to lose. This wasn’t about him anyway; this revenge was for someone else.

He walked over to the ball of paper and snatched it up, stuffing it angrily into his pocket. It wouldn’t be good if someone stumbled on this, read it, and guessed the truth.

Well, that was it then. He knew there was only one thing left to do. He needed to step up his game. It was time to do something now he knew the answer for sure. None of this would be happening if it weren’t for that old bag Gertie. Miss Popularity, the one with the growing collection of flowers in her office. Every time he’d snuck by her office the number of flowers she had lying around seemed to double. She sure had quite the list of admirers. Bet if they knew how evil she was and what she’d done, they wouldn’t be sending her anything at all.

A chill went down his spine when he thought of the flowers, they reminded him of the hospital. The thought of someone in the hospital made him even more angry. And more determined than ever.

Harper let out a long sigh, rolled out the giant blueprint for the runway onto her desk, and sat, eager to figure out what was going on with the design issue. After she'd left Logan downstairs, she'd been busy with one thing after another all day, including bringing yet another giant vase of flowers up to Gertie’s office. It had been so big she could barely carry it, and Gertie’s office was filling so fast it was starting to look like a dang flower shop. She hoped the interruptions would stop soon so she could finally focus on the runway setup.

As she examined the prints it became obvious the runway, set up downstairs, was definitely different from the blueprints. She doubted it was a mistake. Her mind started to race, worrying Veronica might think she was involved in messing it up, since she'd just found her in there and questioned Harper about what she was doing. She forced herself to stop thinking negative thoughts, replacing them with encouragement, reminding herself Logan had stuck up for her. By now, he knew she wasn’t the one sabotaging things, and she knew she could find out who it was if she focused carefully on what her next steps would be.

So, how could she use this runway situation to capture the culprit? She stood and paced around her office, her heels clicking as she patrolled the wooden floor.

The show was in two days, and she needed to stop this person before they did something major, ruining everything for Gertie and everyone else who worked there. She stood next to the window, basking in the late rays of the sun which was slowly creeping down behind the buildings and closed her eyes to concentrate.

Wait a minute! She ran to the drawing, spinning it around so it was facing her and looked at it again. Why change the setup? What was this person trying to achieve by doing it? The models could still go along the runway, so why did it matter where the weak spot was? She squinted as she looked at the drawing, trying to envision the runway downstairs versus what it was supposed to look like according to the drawings.

Her heart froze when she realized what was going on. The way the runway had been set up, the part of the catwalk that would be next to the river, was where it had buckled when she'd stood on it. If it happened with a wheelchair model on it, the platform would pitch forward at a steep angle, and the model would plunge into the river in her wheelchair! Given many of the models couldn’t use their legs, this would certainly kill someone. What kind of sicko would want to do that, and why?

She already knew it could be Ben, but she'd also seen George downstairs near the runway. Really, there were a lot of people involved in the construction of it. So, how could someone make changes, and have it built the wrong way without anyone realizing? Or did this person sneak in after hours and change it on their own? Whoever it was must have a serious axe to grind with Gertie to risk potentially killing someone.

Harper knew Veronica had already instructed the maintenance guys to repair the weak spot in the runway before they dismantled it, so they could rebuild it outside in readiness for the show on Friday. If someone wanted to make sure the runway was sabotaged, odds were they knew the damage was now being fixed. They would also know they only had tonight to mess it up again. Meaning they would have to go in after-hours when no one was around and mess with the supports again, or whatever it was they planned on doing to sabotage it.

She glanced at her watch, it was approaching five o clock. Snatching up her cell phone, she headed downstairs bracing herself for a long night. If someone was going to tamper with things she would be there, phone in hand, ready to capture it all.

Logan crammed himself into the small closet across from the runway, the cold brick wall making him wish he'd worn his jacket. He left the door slightly ajar, so he could see out, hopeful whoever was causing the problems would show up.

He'd looked at his copy of the blueprints, and Veronica had been right; the runway configuration had been set up differently than it should have been. Sure, there was the slim possibility it had been set up wrong by mistake, but after he'd taken the cat outside, he'd gone back and inspected the runway where the supports had started to buckle. They'd been tampered with, so it wasn’t obvious from the outside, but they would buckle when pressure was applied. If the runway was set up outside in this configuration, the pressure would cause it to tilt down, forcing whoever was on it to go right into the river. That meant, whoever was walking first had to be the target. Everyone knew the first person along the runway was supposed to be Gertie.

He shifted uncomfortably inside the dark closet and rubbed his hands together. The last person to access the invite file had done so under the admin login. What didn’t make sense was how the perp had gotten everyone to build the runway the wrong way? It took several employees to build, and they all knew how to read a blueprint. The only thing that made sense was if the person had given them a new blueprint, but Logan had scoured through the files and hadn’t found one.

Since he'd made sure everyone on staff knew the faulty supports were going to be fixed, and it was also well-known the entire runway would be rebuilt outside tomorrow, he was hoping the perp would come back tonight to try to mess with the supports, or something else, to damage the runway again. When he, or she, showed up, Logan would be ready.

Suddenly, he heard a faint noise; someone was approaching. He held his breath and peeked out through the crack in the doorway. He could see a shadowy object in the darkened room. It was moving slowly, and while he couldn’t make out who it was, he knew by their size it was a person.

“Stop right there!” he yelled, bursting out of the closet, turning on the flashlight he'd brought with him, pointing the bright light at the figure. For a minute he reached instinctively for his gun, an old habit from his policeman days.

“What? You stop!” Harper shouted, taking several steps back and holding her hand up to shield her eyes.

“Harper? What the heck are you doing down here sneaking around in the dark?” Logan moved the beam of the flashlight away from her face, so she could see.

“Me? What the heck were you doing hiding in the closet? You nearly gave me a heart attack! I came down—”

“Shush. Someone’s coming.” Logan reached out and grabbed her by the sleeve. He pulled her, before she could protest, towards the closet and pushed her in before him, pulling the door behind him but leaving it open a crack so they could still see out.

He shut his flashlight off and neither of them said a word. They were facing each other, crammed into the tiny area together. Her hands were pressed against his chest, making him lose focus on why they were there. She turned her head to peek out the doorway, and he caught the faint scent of her perfume, a beachy smell that reminded him of the ocean.

“I know him!”

Harper’s whisper jolted Logan back to reality, and he peeked out to see who she was talking about. He watched in silence as Ben came into the room, grabbed a screw gun, and left.

They stood, frozen, for what seemed like hours but was only a few minutes. Then Logan opened the closet door and stepped into the room.

“Do you think Ben’s the one who has been messing with everything?” He turned the flashlight on and shone it around the room.

“I’m pretty sure it’s him. I’ve suspected him from the start.”

“Well, there’s one problem. He didn’t do anything, aside from take the screw gun. If he was going to sabotage the runway, he would be doing it right now, wouldn’t he?” Logan walked over to the light switch and flicked it on.

“Maybe he heard us? I don’t know. I guess you have a point. But he could also walk in again.”

They both looked at the door as if Ben would burst through it any minute and announce himself as the troublemaker.

“What made you think of him as a suspect, anyway? What did he do?” Logan leaned against the wall. He kept the flashlight at hand, ready to use it as a weapon just in case someone did come bursting through the door and tried to start some trouble.

“Well, the last event we had was a wedding reception. It was important because it was Gertie’s first event and was also two well-known people. The bride wanted butterflies to be released during the reception. Butterflies are a major nightmare, they have to be kept at a certain temperature or else they will die.”

“Butterflies?” Logan laughed, shaking his head.

“Yes, butterflies! Anyway, they were in this special temperature-controlled box, and Ben opened it up and looked in it. When questioned, he said Gertie had told him to make sure the box remained at a certain temperature.”

“So, he did what Gertie told him to. I’m confused.” Logan was unsure why that would have made Ben a suspect to Harper.

“Well, yes, but I’m not convinced Gertie told him to do that. You know she has a habit of covering up for people when she feels it’s just a minor detail. Plus, even if she did ask him to do it, he didn’t need to open the box up. The thermometer was external and could be seen from the outside.”

“Hmmm. Yeah, I guess that could make him a suspect.” Logan was uncertain there was enough evidence to make Ben the perp. Whoever had changed the runway configuration and messed around with the support beams knew what they were doing, and he was unsure Ben had that knowledge.

“Well, what’s our next step? Do we sit in here all night?” Harper spoke as she looked around.

“Well, the night’s still early and I feel whoever is messing things up will want to screw with the runway again, and they might come back tonight. Everyone knows first thing tomorrow morning it will be moved outside. If they weaken the supports like it appears they’ve done here it’s likely that no one will notice when they put it back together. You can’t tell unless you inspect it and since it’s supposedly already been inspected in here, they won’t be looking too closely when they move it outside.”

“Yeah, I had the same thought.”

“You go ahead and go home. I’ll hang out here for a while, to see if anything happens. I would be mad if I wasn’t around tonight and the guy—or girl—screwed with the stuff again.” Logan looked around the room.

“Uh, no way. I want to be here if something happens too.” Harper pulled an old metal chair out from the corner and sat on it, her stomach growling.

“Tell you what. I’ll order some takeout for us, you go grab it upstairs when it arrives, and I’ll stay here. We can eat it here, if you’re okay with that. I mean, it’s not the nicest spot for a picnic.”

“Deal. I’m starving!”

“Good. Maybe we can put our heads together and figure this thing out while we’re at it.”