“General Mercer,” Harris said, his voice crisp and clear. “We have secured the perimeter.”

Daniel made a strange, choking sound in the back of his throat.

“General?” he repeated, his voice cracking slightly. “What is this, Rachel? Who are these people?”

Harris shifted his gaze to Daniel, his eyes turning cold and analytical.

“Sir, step back from the General,” Harris said.

“This is my house,” Daniel said, though his voice lacked its previous heat. “You can’t just come in here.”

“Actually, Mr. Whitmore, we can,” Harris said, stepping over the threshold into the warm air of the foyer.

The other three investigators followed him, their boots leaving damp tracks on the rug.

Ava appeared at the top of the stairs, her face pale, clutching the wooden banister.

“Dad?” she called out, her voice trembling. “What’s going on?”

Daniel looked up at her, then back at the men standing in his hallway.

“I don’t know,” Daniel said to her, before turning to Harris. “My wife is having some kind of episode. She’s threatening us. My daughter was assaulted by her.”

Harris did not look up at Ava.