He stepped out of the car and looked at the house. It was a nice two-story, a mix-match of a few different styles. He thought it might be either modern beach house or some new-fangled approach to farmhouse. Whatever it might be, there were a few others nearby, the large lawns separated by perfectly trimmed hedges.

He knew very little about the woman hed come to visitjust that her name was Madeline Holcomb, she was sixty-three years old and there was apparently something wrong with her liversomething wrong enough to have added her name to a transplant list, anyway. Jack imagined that if she did want the police presence outside of her home until the case was closed, hed be the one to do it until a local was able to arrive. It was rather sad that he envied Rachel for having to visit the hospital for her guy while he was about to go and bother an old lady.

When he came to the door, he knocked loudly. There was no answer, so he then rang the bell. In doing so, it then occurred to him that an old woman living on her own and dealing with a liver-related illness may not be able to come to the door as quickly as most people. He reached out to ring the bell again but could just barely hear a ragged, female voice calling out from somewhere inside the house.

My God, come inside already!

Jack looked at the door for a moment, perplexed. If this was how she answered the door most of the time, surely she didnt have that many friends. Or maybe she had someone come by to check on her or help her out while she was sick and was expecting them. Whatever the case, Jack tried the knob and found the door unlocked. He pushed the door open and stepped inside, finding himself in a small but very dainty foyer. A decorative vase sat on the floor, against the wall. A gorgeous beach scene painting adorned most of the wall facing the doorway.

Hello? Maam?

Jack stepped through the foyer and to the adjoining den as he called out. There was no immediate answer as he took in the sight of the den. Everything in the place was immaculately cleaned. He could even smell faint traces of some sort of lemon-scented cleaner. The white couch looked so clean it could have passed for brand new. Every tabletop and picture frame seemed to shine. The appearance of the place suggested that either Madeline Holcomb did indeed have someone coming over to help her out around the house, or she was doing a lot of cleaning to deal with the stress she was going through.

He was so taken with the cleanliness of the place that it took him a moment to realize that hed called out about five seconds ago and he hadnt gotten a response yet.

Hello? Mrs. Holcomb? Im an FBI agent, and I