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"You have a plan?"

"I always have a plan."

"I was afraid of that."

"I thought we'd visit Timothy and Rebecca's house."

He sets his mug down.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

"You were?"

"They're still the center of this."

I nod.

"If we're going to find answers, we need to see where they disappeared."

"And where Sayer lived."

Sayer looks nervous but doesn't object.

"I'll go."

"You don't have to," I tell him.

"I want to."

His answer is immediate.

"I need to know if I missed something."

An hour later, we're driving across town.

The roads are already crowded with Halloween tourists. Children in tiny witch hats pull their parents toward pumpkin patches. Volunteers hang fresh orange banners from streetlamps. Every storefront window advertises ghost tours, haunted hayrides, or psychic readings. The entire town is leaning into the season.

If I didn't know better…

I'd think it was charming.

Timothy and Rebecca Valentine's neighborhood sits several miles from downtown. Newer.

Quiet. Ordinary. Exactly the kind of place no one would ever associate with a mystery.

The house looks almost untouched. Yellow police tape still stretches across the front porch. A sheriff's cruiser is gone. Only silence remains.

Rhett parks across the street instead of directly in front.

"Why here?"

"I like seeing the whole picture first."

Of course he does.

We sit for nearly a minute without speaking. He studies neighboring houses. Sight lines.

Driveways. Windows. Anything that might have captured movement.