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The front camera freezes. Thirty-seven seconds later…

It resumes. We wait. Another freeze. Exactly thirty-seven seconds.

"That's impossible."

"It's intentional."

"You think someone hacked the system?"

"Possibly."

"But random failures aren't usually this consistent."

She writes the number on the legal pad.

37 seconds.

Another piece of the puzzle. No explanation. Just another fact.

Sayer suddenly straightens.

"Did you hear that?"

Both of us stop.

"Hear what?" I ask.

"Footsteps."

I listen. Nothing. The cottage is silent.

"I don't hear anything."

"They're outside."

He walks toward the front window.

"Wait."

He freezes immediately. Good. He listens. He learns. I slowly move beside him without looking through the curtains.

"Where?"

"The porch."

A single floorboard creaks. Outside. My pulse slows instead of quickening. Adrenaline is useful. Panic isn't.

I motion for both of them to stay back. Then I pull the curtain aside.

The porch is empty. Again. But something has changed. A single black feather rests on the welcome mat.

It wasn't there this morning. I open the door carefully. The feather doesn't move. No wind. No birds. Just one perfectly black feather lying in the center of the porch.

I crouch beside it. Crow. Most likely. Yet something feels…

Off.

I don't touch it. Instead, I photograph it with my phone. The image saves. For now.