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The realization settles over me with startling clarity. This isn't random. It never was.

Sayer didn't accidentally find me. The records didn't accidentally disappear. The electronics aren't randomly malfunctioning.

Someone has been trying to erase a story. A story connected to me. Connected to Sayer.

Maybe connected to Rhett.

The legal pad is still sitting on the dining room table.

Without saying a word, I pick up the pen and add another line beneath Confirmed.

Someone is actively trying to keep the truth hidden.

Rhett reads it over my shoulder.

"I agree."

No debate. No skepticism. Just agreement. It's strangely reassuring.

Sayer stares toward the staircase leading to the attic.

"They know."

"Who?"

He swallows.

"Whoever's doing this."

His voice is almost a whisper.

"They know we're together now."

The room falls silent again. Outside, any remaining light is quickly fading beneath thickening gray clouds. Only yesterday, this cottage had been the safest place I knew. Now it feels like the center of a map I never wanted to unfold.

And somehow…

Every road is leading here.

8

RHETT

OCTOBER 20 ~ 11 DAYS UNTIL HALLOWEEN

I've learned to trust my instincts. Not because they're always right. Because ignoring them has nearly gotten people killed.

The cottage is quiet again. Too quiet. Silence after a disturbance is rarely comforting. It usually means whatever caused it is waiting.

I stand on the front porch, studying the property for the third time in twenty minutes. Nothing. No footprints in the damp flowerbeds. No broken branches. No tire tracks beyond my own. The gravel driveway hasn't been disturbed since I arrived.

If someone came here, they left without leaving a trace. Or they were never here at all. I don't like either possibility.

I crouch beside one of the porch posts and run my fingers over the weathered wood. Old.

Solid. The cottage has been cared for. Fresh paint within the last year. New hardware on the storm door. The windows are older but reinforced. Someone has invested time into making this place feel safe.

Carys. Of course. She always built stability wherever she landed. Maybe because so much of her life had been unstable.