“He won’t find them first,” Gabriel said, his hands steady on the steering wheel.

“How can you be sure?” I asked.

“Because he doesn’t know Eleanor Price helped your mother,” Gabriel said. “He thinks she was just an old friend who stayed away.”

“He underestimated her,” I said.

“He underestimates everyone,” Gabriel said. “It’s his greatest weakness.”

The drive took hours.

The rain did not let up, turning the roads slick and dangerous.

We crossed the state line into Wisconsin.

The roads grew narrower, winding through heavy woods.

Finally, Gabriel turned onto a gravel road.

The branches of the pine trees scraped against the sides of the SUV.

At the end of the road stood the lake house.

It was a dark, two-story wooden structure sitting on the edge of the black water.

The dock creaked in the wind, the waves of the lake lapping against the wooden pilings.

It looked completely abandoned.

Gabriel parked the vehicle under the shelter of some heavy oaks.

“Keep your phone on silent,” he whispered.

“Do you think he’s already here?” I asked.

“The driveway was empty, but we can’t be sure,” he said.