“Oh, god,” she says, picking up the pace.

We break into a clear area, with a gravel drive and an overgrown lawn, then step up onto the porch.

Trey knocks, which I’m finally accepting as a ridiculous gesture because if anyone is inside, they are certainly not alive, but maybe these little gestures are important anyway.

“Hello?” Trey calls out. “Anyone home?”

Tanq presses her nose to a window, shading her face with her hands. “No one in the living room.”

“We’ll need something to break the glass,” Trey says. “Maybe the handle of the gun . . .”

I reach for the doorknob. It twists like it’s just been oiled, and the door swings open. “Finally,” I say. “A bit of luck.”

A wave of decomp wallops me in the face, but it’s not as bad as Mrs. Carby’s house or even that Chevy truck at the travel center. Whoever’s in here has been dead a little longer.

“Ugh,” Tanq says, but she bulldozes past me and goes right in.

It’s a pretty house, with hardwood floors made of old railroad ties and a giant fireplace mantel with built-in shelves to either side, enclosed in leaded glass. The furniture is used but comfortable—lots of wood in simple, clean designs, possibly made by the local Amish. Through the family room is a small kitchen with pots and pans hanging from a ceiling rack over an antique stove in avocado green. Somehow, the owners made it look trendy next to soft yellow walls and cupboards covered with calico curtains instead of doors.

A doorway leads to a small area that does double duty as both pantry and laundry room.

“Yahtzee!” Tanq says, grabbing a bag of corn chips.

There’s plenty of food on the shelves. I find some canned chicken, then rummage through drawers and cupboards for a can opener and a plate, and within minutes, Emmaline is happily chomping away.

It’s a relief just to feed my dog. Like that one simple act reminds me that I can do things, take care of things.

“We should avoid the upstairs,” Tanq says, grabbing a jar of peanut butter.

“Agreed,” says Trey. He reaches for a keychain hanging from a peg by the refrigerator, shakes it at us. “Let’s hope there’s a car matching one of these keys in that barn.”

“Manny Gomez said to travel during the day,” I say.

Trey’s face falls. “Yeah, you’re right. We should sleep here tonight, hit the road early in the morning.”

The mere thought of resting almost makes my knees buckle.

“Paige, you can have the sofa,” he says. “I sleep fine on the floor.”

Tanq rolls her eyes. “Don’t worry about me, Trey,” she says pointedly. “I can sleep on the floor too.”

Trey just grins at her.