It had been nearly twenty minutes, and the investigator was still running in circles. He knew he'd passed this hall before, seen this mirror. He'd been here five times before.

"Lucie! Where are you!"

Another turn, he found himself back in the office. How did he get there? It was hauntingly silent.

This time, in the wide, glass mirror, his reflection was where it should be, entering the door with him."Who are you!" He ran up to the mirror and slammed on the glass with his fist. His reflection did the same. "What are you?"

He unraveled his hand, the glass cold under his palm. Or was it glass? A drop of sweat slid down between the cracks in his wrist. As his reflection began to open its mouth, it took everything he had in him to keep his hand on the glass. "I am you. Can't you tell?" Its cold hand was slowly beginning to collapse onto that of the inspector's. Fingers nearly intertwined. "You can trust yourself, can't you?"

In Lucie's room, struck by fear, she dropped the mirror piece onto the ground. It broke into three even pieces, one bouncing off the carpet and scraping the side of her foot. "All we want." It hissed, with a voice surrounding the room, and echoing through the child's head. She stepped away, but it was all around her, everywhere she looked, covering the floor. Her own eyes, her nose, her legs. Her beating heart. "Is for you to come with us." She tripped over the music box and fell to the ground, triggering the music and the silver ballerina, twirling and jerking in a circle on the top. "Just like your uncle did."

The investigator stepped away from the mirror inside the study.

"Why?" As he stepped back, his reflection reached forward. Its fingers were no longer inside the mirror, and instead, were pushing through the thick layer of glass, that was now becoming a stretchy, clear liquid over top of its fingers. "You've just copied me all my life. Why do this now?"

"I'm not them." It said. "But they will realize, too."

"What? Realize what?" He reached for something to protect himself. A book, a chair. Nothing seemed strong enough.

"You know too much. And we can't have people knowing too much, now can we?" The reflection pushed hard on the glass. It rippled from top to bottom. "Now." He said. "Take my hand, let me come out so we can speak face to face."

This puzzled the investigator. He had dealt with many criminals in the past, many of whom had lied to him, and was beginning to become more skeptical then he had been before. He was able, at this point in his career, to sense if someone was bluffing. "Come on out then." He whispered. The reflection went silent. "I don't think you can." He took a step forward, closer to the rippling mirror, and himself inside. "I think that- only I can go in. Is that right? Are you trying to fool me into taking your hand so you can pull me in and trap me inside?" He hesitated, collecting his thoughts. He looked up. "Is that what you did to Richard Dare?"

The reflection smiled, but it soon faded. "Richard Dare. Too curious for his own good. We did that. Yes." He locked eyes with the investigator. Dark eyes. His own eyes. His hard glance sent the investigator's eyes away. "And we're doing it to the girl as we speak."

The Investigator immediately looked up. "Lucie."