“Thank you, yes, he’s a doll. Did you buy this house? Are you the new owner?”

“Me? No.”

“Oh, well, we all heard it was a young man. I wanted to welcome him to the neighborhood.”

“No, sorry, it wasn’t me.”

“All right. Well, you have a nice day.”

“You too.”

That was that. She waited while her dog lifted his leg at the boulevard tree, and then she continued down the street. I watched to see if she would look over her shoulder at me, but she didn’t.

New owner? The house had already sold?

I didn’t know what to make of that.

I let myself in through the gate. On the walkway, I studied the windows, but no one looked out at me. I checked the street again and then went up to the front door and rang the bell. There was no answer, even when I rang twice more and pounded on the door. With my apprehension growing, I turned the knob. The door was open.

“Is anyone home?” I called. “Hello?”

I got no reply.

The house still smelled as it had when I was last here, of sweet cut wood. A fine layer of sawdust coated everything. I went into the living room, where Scotty and I had argued. Somehow I expected to see a chalk outline marking the location of a body, with bloodstains dried on the plastic sheeting, but there was nothing like that. I saw no evidence that a crime had been committed here.

“Hello?” I called again. “It’s Dylan Moran. I got a note to meet someone here.”

Still no response. The house was empty.

I ventured deeper inside. There was no furniture. Everything had been removed. With each step, I listened for a noise to suggest that someone was hiding, but I heard nothing. I checked every room on the ground level, and then, with only the slightest hesitation, I went upstairs to the second floor.

The door to the master bedroom was closed.

I approached it with soft footfalls and knocked. “Is anyone there?”

I tensed, then opened the door. For some reason, I had visions of finding a body inside, but I was wrong. No one was here. However, the bedroom, unlike the rest of the house, showed signs of life. Someone was living and sleeping here. There were open moving boxes strewed across the floor, and a mattress with a rumpled blanket lay below the windows. When I glanced in the bathroom, I saw a towel bunched over the shower rod and a lineup of male toiletries on the sink.

It was time to go. I’d stayed here long enough.