Answers were at the Fairchild house; I could feel it.

Thanks to the internet, it wasn’t hard at all to find where Luna’s dad lived. I’d looked it up before, back when I was first researching the Hollises while Peyton clung to life in the hospital. The address stuck in my head: pink, white, melon, copper. 257 Noble.

The weather was beautiful, and I drove with my windows open, sunglasses on, the smell of beach faint in the air. I turned up the radio and sang along, feeling halfway normal for a change. It was the kind of weather that made you want to do fun things—go to a festival or see a movie or hang out at the dojang with the doors open and the fans on.

Or capture the girl who’s been trying to kill you, and who might be the last link to avenging your mother.

I turned down the radio as I got closer to Luna’s house, for some reason feeling like announcing myself with noise was not such a great idea. But when I pulled up to the curb, I realized my fear was for nothing.

I checked the address, and even double-checked on my phone to make sure I wasn’t remembering it wrong. Yep, 257 Noble. That was Luna’s address. The house she grew up in. Plain and small and boring.

And currently for sale.

Not to mention deserted. There weren’t even curtains left on the windows.

I parked at the curb and stared in disbelief. I supposed it wasn’t such a stretch to imagine not wanting to live in a tight neighborhood like this one when your daughter was a known murderer, but for some reason being unable to just walk up to the door and talk to Peter Fairchild felt like a blow. Or should I say another blow.

I leaned my forehead on the steering wheel and groaned. Option after option after option. Dead end after dead end after dead end. Chris was done helping me search. Shelby was clueless. Even Vee had seemed to give up. Blue had nothing for me. Pear Magic. Angry Elephant. igNight. Blue Yonder. I had literally been everywhere I could possibly think of to find Luna. And she was not in a single one of those places. She was a ghost. A shadow. A memory that nobody wanted to hold on to. Now what?

I turned so my temple was resting on the wheel and opened my eyes.

I could so see why this house wasn’t enough for a person like Luna. It was charming. It was unassuming. Black and white with tidy—if not dreadfully plain—little trees and bushes. The only thing colorful anywhere around it was the For Sale sign.

I sat up.