I asked around the restaurant, but no one knew how to point me towards Chiswick until an older gentleman looked at the zip code. “That’s a ways off from here, if it’s where I’m thinking. South of town a few miles and then a few more into the middle of nowhere.” He gave me directions to where he believed the road was that turned out to be rough directions indeed.

I didn’t find the house until it was almost dark, and when I dragged my car alongside it, I almost wished I’d missed it. The place was enormous and horrible—a bleak, Gothic Tara. Giant trees older than Georgia’s statehood crowded in against the pale wooden walls, thick and menacing guardians who would have actively discouraged visitors if only they could. Not to be outdone, the glass at every black-shuttered window was mottled, wavy, and warped as testament to the house’s age and resilience; and along the wide exterior kudzu clung tight from the bushes to the storm drains and up all three chimneys, pretending to be ivy. It cast a black lace shadow against the few windows where a light was on.

A frail, stooped figure passed across one broken square of light and disappeared back into the recesses of the antebellum labyrinth.

Eliza was home.

Two shiny, dark-colored cars were parked as inconspicuously as unmarked police cars can park. Their bulk lurked partially hidden by the big troll trees, but their hoods and bumpers poked out from either side of the monstrous trunks. It wouldn’t do me any good to sneak up—they’d seen me long before I’d seen them. Besides, I hadn’t done anything wrong—at least, I hadn’t done anything illegal. Why should I feel forced to sneak anywhere?

Feigning confidence, I zipped the Death Nugget around the circular driveway and stopped it in front of the door, ignoring the cop cars with conscious effort. I slammed my car door closed, making a show of the noise. See? I’m not trying to sneak or skulk. See? Just minding my own business, paying a visit to an elderly relative. Innocent as can be.

I rang the doorbell.

From the other side I heard footsteps too heavy to be hers. Two great, resounding clacks echoed as the bolts were drawn back and the door swung inward. A large man greeted me. He was too old to be middle-aged but wasn’t yet a senior citizen, and he was tall enough to be staring down at the top of my head, but not so wide that he could be called fat. I lifted my eyes from his chest and planted them squarely on his somber face.

“Can I help you, madam?”

“Yes sir, you can. You can tell Eliza her niece is here to see her.”