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Oliver and I exchanged a look and stood at the same time. “We’re on our way right now.”

The local sheriff’s office had already taped off her car when Oliver and I arrived. I glanced back at River, who was sitting in his car seat soundly. We hadn’t had time to drop him off with Oliver and I rushing to get here. While I drove, Oliver had called Jackie and Fai, letting them know what we had learned. They were both driving out, too, anxious to see the car themselves.

“Will you stay with him?” I asked Oliver, motioning with my head toward River and unbuckling my seat belt. I could see him wanting to disagree, but he ultimately yielded.

“See if they’ll let you look into the car, but don’t touch a thing,” he instructed, and I nodded.

Jumping out of the car, I looked at the crowd gathering behind police barricades. It seemed nearly every member of the town was here, hoping to get a peek at the crime scene. I jogged toward the car, ignoring the rain that fell softly around us.

“Sir!” an officer called to me as I ran past the police barricade, ignoring it completely.

“Detective Ransom!” I called, and he popped his head out of the driver's seat. His gaze was weary, and gone was the relief I had heard in his voice just a couple of days prior. He waved off the officers who were still calling for me to stop.

He closed the distance between us. “Mr. Bosede,” he greeted, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I’m glad you came out, but I’ll be honest, I was hoping you knew where Goldie was.”

I shook my head. “Your guess for where she is, is as good as ours right now,” I explained and looked over at Goldie’s car. The driver's door remained open as described, but the air felt heavier—the world waiting to exhale, holding its breath waiting for Goldie. Maybe I was the one holding my breath. “You said there’s blood?”

He nodded grimly. “Not a lot. A couple of drops,” he explained calmly, but I could feel emotion simmering in his tone and assumed it was the same dread weighing on me. “I don’t want to jump to any conclusions, but I would feel a whole lot better if we could find her and confirm she’s okay.”

“Can I take a look?” I asked.

He sighed and glanced between me and the car before finally nodding. He reached into his back pockets, pulling out a pair of latex gloves and handing them to me. “Quickly, okay? The sheriff would ream my ass if he knew I let you in there.”

I nodded my thanks and pulled the gloves on, walking over to the car. I wandered to the passenger side, pulling the door open. The driver's side of the car was wet after a weekend of the door being left open, the smell of mildew strong in the cabin. I saw the specks of blood on the steering wheel, so small they were nearly invisible. The only reason I didn't miss them was the circles drawn by the crime scene techs.

Goldie’s bag sat on the passenger seat, a coffee cup and water bottle in the console. I saw a pen on the floor of the passenger side, the cap off and nowhere to be seen. I crouched down to get a better look when a flash of red caught my gaze under the passenger seat. I glanced around before pulling it out and finding the notebook Goldie was always scribbling in.

I flipped through the pages quickly, finding her notes about the case, about work, and even a couple about me. I found the last page, finding her final notes. They were a list of names, one after the other:

Old Man Baker

Librarian Lavelle

Brooks Graves

And finally, a sentence—its origin unknown, its meaning lost without Goldie’s insight:

Tell Marigold to run, and to run far. Tell her to go where the witches were burned.

“You good?” Detective Ransom asked, and I stood quickly, stuffing the notebook into my back pocket. It was stupid to take it, but something deep in my gut told me it held the answer—the answer to questions only I could ask.

I nodded and peeled off my gloves. “Yep, nothing seems awry, besides the open door.” Scanning the area, I caught sight of Oliver balancing River on his hip next to Jackie and Fai, who were watching us. They must have arrived while I was looking in the car. I handed Ransom the gloves and motioned toward my crew with my chin. “Thanks for letting me get a look. Let me see if they have any news on where she is.”

Detective Ransom smiled grimly and turned to his fellow officers. I left him behind, going to my friends and squeezing past the barrier. I took River from Oliver’s hands, perching him on my hip, his head resting on my shoulder.

“What did you find?” Fai asked, every muscle in him taut.

I shook my head. “Not here.”

He looked at me with a quizzical frown, but chose not to press for answers. I let out a quiet breath of relief. Explaining that I had stolen evidence in my pocket while standing right in the middle of the crime scene was a conversation I wasn't eager to have. As the three of them murmured back and forth around me, their voices blurred together while I watched the crowd.

There was an older man wearing a pair of overalls, a baseball hat, and a long-sleeved flannel, his eyes flitting around the scene and to me… assessing.

There was an older woman, her glasses perched on her nose, staring daggers at me and those around me, obviously angry about the intruders in her town.

And finally, a younger man who must have been in his early twenties, his hair buzzed and bleached, his tattooed arms on display despite the cold temperatures. His angry gaze was watching Detective Ransom as he worked the scene, and glanced back at us briefly.

While everyone else was looking at the car, they were glancing between the car and me.