She put her foot on the gas and let the car roll forward. Through the rear-view mirror, she watched as the trees pressed against her car, the branches scraping at her windows.

As far as nightmares went, this was up there for Nicky. The deeper they got into the brush, the more trapped she felt.

It reminded her too much of that night, all those years ago, with Rosie, as the man had driven them to the lake house. Nicky stuffed the memory down. She couldn't afford a panic attack, not now.

After what felt like an eternity of driving, the swampy road cleared onto a more open dirt road. The air was thick with wet soil and mud, like a bog. Scents of decay and rot coated the air. Nicky saw that if they went right, it would take them down another road that could lead back to the highway. Left, and they'd hit Sarah Mills's trailer within minutes.

Nicky looked at Ken, who was glancing around the forest. "I wanna get out of here too," Nicky said, "but we might as well finish this."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, let's go talk to her husband."

Ken nodded, but his expression was grim. Nicky had a bad feeling too. But their job wasn't to run when things got hard. It was to keep pushing forward until justice was served.

They were both silent as they drove down the road. Nicky was grateful, because she was tired of trying to talk through the tension.

They reached a fork in the road, and Nicky turned left. The GPS said she had one more turn to make, and then they'd be at the address.

"You see that?" Ken said, pointing out the windshield.

Nicky slowed the car down, trying to see what Ken was pointing at. Then she saw.

The old trailer sat perched on a small knoll, its walls tattered and stained. The roof was missing large chunks where a tree branch had smashed through it. The branches and leaves had tangled up in the broken window panes, obscuring the view inside. The surrounding trees created a natural canopy, shielding the trailer from the sun and the rain. The scent of rain and earth and wood was strong in the air.

Nicky drove the car up to the front door, which was hanging off its hinges.

She parked the car, and they both got out.

"Looks like nobody's been here for a while," Ken said.

Nicky sidled up to him. "Then let's be quiet, okay? The file said the husband still lives here."

"Right," he said, and drew his gun.

They went around back. Nicky saw a rickety old porch and a sliding screen door. A pair of muddy sneakers sat on the floor, and Nicky saw a can of beans sitting on a counter.

Ken pointed to the screen. "You think we should knock or...?"