Cooper wasn’t sure what kind of face he was making, but Cola gave him one look and snorted. “Just be thankful I’m paraphrasing. She hasn’t seen J.T since the gala setup.”

“How is Genevieve coping?” Park asked.

Cola shrugged. “Aside from seeing the savaged and malformed corpse of her loved one? Well. One might even say suspiciously well. She was quick to jump on Roy’s suggestion that Arthur was wearing a Halloween mask last night, but while complaining about Neil’s fixation on her husband, let slip it was more than just the cuckolding that got him off. It was like he was testing how well Arthur could scent him and that isn’t a paraphrase.”

Park made a noise and Cola nodded, then added for Cooper’s benefit, “How many unaware humans do you know who use the word scenting over smelling? Not ironclad proof, but my bet is Genevieve Crane isn’t quite so clueless as Arthur swore to me she was.”

“And neither is Neil?” Cooper asked.

Cola held up a piece of paper and a key with a little green plastic tag attached to it. “I don’t know, but I’ve got a warrant and Cult Town’s gatekeeper gave me a key if you want to find out.”

She reached past them and knocked hard on the door. “Neil Gerhart, this is Agent Margaret Cola of the Trust. If you are able to, please answer the door.”

There was silence. Cola used the key and announced herself again as they walked inside. “Agent Neil Gerhart, three Trust agents are entering the residence with a warrant to search your home. If you are able to, please respond.”

Both Cola and Park sniffed the air as they walked into the foyer. “I don’t hear anyone,” Park said, and Cola nodded. Cooper wandered past them into the living room, dining room, kitchen. It was even more bleak than the outside. Completely clean and...empty.

Not literally empty. Someone definitely lived there. The fridge had its orange juice carton, its almond milk, the dishwasher had been loaded and run, open boxes of cereal in the cabinet. But there was nothing personal. Not a single item that wasn’t essential to living. Demo homes had more personality.

Cooper thought again of the joke around the agency that there was no real Neil behind the covers. He’d thought they were naïve to think that. He’d thought they were lucky. The man Cooper had known was a bastard, but he was a—a person. The apartment where he’d lived before hadn’t been like this.

Looking at this eerily soulless house, Cooper wondered for the first time if the man he thought he’d known was just another cover. That without the job, he was...nobody.

He heard Cola going upstairs, and Park joined him in the kitchen, asking, “Anything?”