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Fionaclenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as a surge of angercoursed through her. If this was the man who had taken Joslyn – who haddestroyed so many lives – she would make sure he paid for his crimes. Shewouldn't allow him to evade justice any longer.
Thiswas the closest Fiona had ever gotten. Finding out the possible name of the manwho had taken her older sister from the beach ten years ago was huge, possiblylife-shattering. The tip had come from Marcus, a man who used to work withMarissa--the woman who had apparently been in a relationship with Damien, ifthat was his real name. Marissa had lured girls into Damien's trap, but thenshe had taken her own life behind bars before Fiona could get his name fromher. Then they'd tracked down Marcus, who used to work with Marissa at a fastfood restaurant when they were teenagers. Marcus was sure that Damien was thename of Marissa's boyfriend, a man he'd seen her arguing with before.
Andtheir research into this possible man, Damien Blackwood, had led them here.
"Stayclose to me," Jake said as he turned off the engine and climbed out of thecar. Fiona followed suit, the gravel crunching beneath her boots as theyapproached the house. Its rotting wood groaned and creaked in protest as ifwarning them not to enter. But Fiona refused to be deterred. She had come toofar and lost too much to back down now.
"Watchyour step," Jake whispered, pushing open the door with a slow, agonizingcreak that sent shivers down Fiona's spine. She took a deep breath, bracingherself for whatever waited inside, and stepped over the threshold.
Thedarkness was nearly suffocating, seeming to seep into every crevice and cornerof the house as they moved cautiously forward, their flashlights cuttingthrough the shadows like knives. The air was thick with the scent of decay andmold, and Fiona couldn't help but feel as though she were walking through thebelly of some monstrous beast.
"Spreadout," Jake instructed, his voice barely above a whisper. "But don'tgo too far. We don't know what might be in here."
"Orwho," Fiona added, her fear battling with her anger. She knew that everystep she took brought her closer to the truth – the truth about what hadhappened to Joslyn and all the other girls who had been taken by this monster.She wouldn't give up until she found it, even if it meant facing the darkestdepths of her own soul.
"Remember,you're not alone," Jake said, his brown eyes flashing. "I'm righthere with you, Fiona. We'll get through this together."
Fionanodded, her heart swelling, grateful to have Jake with her on this aftereverything they'd been through. They’d gone through highs and lows—when Jakewas still taken by his ex-partner, Lauren, and Fiona had an unrequited crush onhim, to when Fiona got into her own relationship just as Jake and Lauren werebreaking up, and Jake had realized he had feelings for her. It seemed that thestars were never aligning for them; even when they were both single, Jake hadbeen unable to commit to Fiona at first. But very recently, they had put it allaside and were diving deep into their relationship, something she couldn’t bemore excited about.
At thesame time, she knew that, ultimately, this burden was hers to bear.
With aquiet sigh, she ventured further into the darkness, determined to bring an endto the nightmare that had haunted her for so long.
AsFiona and Jake searched the house, Fiona couldn't help but notice the eerieatmosphere that seemed to cling to every surface like cobwebs. Layers of dustcovered the chipped wooden floorboards, which creaked beneath their feet asthey moved from room to room. Wallpaper hung in tattered strips, revealing thebrittle bones of the house's structure - a testament to the years of neglect ithad endured.
"Lookat this," Jake murmured, shining his flashlight on a collection of oldnewspapers piled up in the corner of what must have once been a living room."The dates... they're from around the time Joslyn disappeared."
Fiona'sheart clenched at the mention of her sister, and she forced herself to focus onthe task at hand. Rummaging through the debris, she found nothing that pointedto Damien's presence. It was maddening, knowing that they were so close and yetstill so far away from finding the answers they sought.
"Let'scheck upstairs," Jake suggested, his voice laced with determination.
"Stayclose," Fiona replied, her voice wavering only slightly as they beganclimbing the staircase, its steps groaning in protest under their weight.
Theyscoured the first floor of the house, but it seemed to hold nothing more thanthe remnants of a lifelong abandoned. Peeling paint and shattered glasslittered the floors while mold infested the damp walls. A sense of despairseeped into Fiona's heart, causing her to doubt if they would ever findanything that could lead them to Joslyn or any of the other missing girls. Thenewspaper with the decade-old dates intrigued her, but it wasn't enough toprove anything.
"Wait,"Jake whispered suddenly, holding up a hand for silence. "Do you hearthat?"
Fionastrained her ears, and then she heard it too – the faint sound of someonebreathing, slow and steady. They exchanged a glance, and Fiona's heart poundedas they followed the source of the sound.
"Beready for anything," Jake warned as they approached the door to a smallbedroom at the end of the hallway.
With adeep breath, Fiona pushed open the door, her flashlight beam illuminating thefigure of a man lying on a dirty mattress. Her heart raced as she steppedcloser, adrenaline coursing through her veins. She drew a breath and preparedherself to confront the faceless man who had haunted her dreams for a decade.The man who had taken her sister from her irrevocably changed the course of herlife.
Fionaexchanged a look with Jake, who nodded. He had his gun ready, and Fiona knew hehad her back. But she had to be the one to do this.
"Damien?"she called out tentatively, reaching out to shake the sleeping man awake.
"Wha–" the man croaked, his eyes fluttering open to reveal a face far too oldand worn to belong to Damien, a man they estimated to be in his thirties,forties at most. Wrinkles carved deep lines into the man's skin, and a beardmatted with dirt and grime obscured most of his lower face.
"Thisis the FBI--who are you?" Jake demanded, his voice gruff.
"Name'sFrank," the disheveled old man replied, squinting up at them in confusion."What're you two doin' here?"
"Wrongperson," Fiona whispered. The crushing weight of yet another dead endsettled heavily on her shoulders.
Thoughit wasn't the outcome they had hoped for, something in her refused to let go ofthe desperate need for answers. She looked to Jake, pleading for some form ofsolace. He nodded back at her. Maybe, somehow, someway, this could still leadsomewhere.
"Frank,do you have any ID on you?" Jake asked.
