The air outside was cold and damp, a thick mist hanging over the streetlights.

Lydia’s car was parked three doors down.

We got in, the heaters blowing cold air before slowly warming up.

The drive to the Hayes estate took fifteen minutes through the winding, tree-lined roads of the valley.

The trees loomed like dark giants against the gray sky.

As we neared the stone pillars of the entrance, I saw the red tail lights of Malcolm’s unmarked vehicle.

He was parked just inside the gate, his engine idling quietly in the dark.

Lydia pulled her car behind his and killed the headlights.

The silence of the country estate swallowed us.

I opened the passenger door, the smell of wet pine and old earth filling my lungs.

Malcolm got out of his car, holding a rugged tablet computer in his hand.

The screen of the tablet was active, casting a bright white glow over his uniform.

“Claire,” Malcolm said, his voice low as he stepped toward us.

“I’m glad you came quickly.”

“What did you find, Malcolm?” I asked, my boots crunching on the wet gravel.