Melissa’s next of kin was listed as a sister, Sarah Vance.

According to the latest tax records, Sarah lived in a small apartment complex in Gastonia, thirty miles west of Charlotte.

I put the car in drive and pulled out of Kane’s driveway.

The rain had slowed to a steady, gray drizzle by the time I reached Gastonia.

The apartment complex was a collection of two-story brick buildings with peeling paint and overgrown shrubbery.

I parked near the rear unit and checked the names on the mailboxes.

Apartment 4B had the name *S. Vance* written on a faded strip of masking tape.

I walked up the concrete stairs, my boots squeaking on the wet steps.

I knocked on the metal door.

For a long minute, there was no sound from inside.

I knocked again, firmer this time.

A deadbolt clicked.

The door opened three inches, held by a brass security chain.

A woman with tired brown eyes and pale skin looked out at me.

She looked younger than me, but her face was lined with deep stress.

“Sarah Vance?” I asked.