As they stepped out of the car, Tara’s eyes darted to movement in a window next to the front door—it was a curtain falling—and a shiver flowed up Tara’s spine.

Warren saw it too. “Looks like someone knows we’re here,” he said.

Seconds later they stood on a worn-out welcome mat as Tara knocked on the door. A few moments went by, but no one answered and they waited in silence as an unsettling feeling washed over her. They knew someone was home—whoever it was had seen them—yet they intentionally chose to not answer. Tara was about to knock one last time, but just when she lifted her fist to the door, they heard a shuffling inside and the door opened slightly.

Just through the crack, they saw the bloodshot eyes of a man. He squinted, as if the sun hurt him, and stepped a bit further back into the darkness behind him.

“Hello,” Tara said cautiously, while allowing her hand to fall near her gun just in case. “Is James Hayden available?”

The man stepped a bit closer to the door, opening it slightly more.

“I’m James,” he said. He opened his eyes wider, revealing their piercing blueness. They were swollen and tired, as if he hadn’t slept in days. “Who’s asking?”

“My name is Agent Mills, this is Agent Warren,” she said. “You work at the hiking information center not too far from here, correct?”

“Yes, why?” he asked sharply.

“We were just hoping to ask you a couple questions,” she began. “I’m sure you’ve heard about the missing persons reports on the Appalachian Trail?” Tara asked, carefully easing into the conversation.

He just stood there, silent, with no change in his expression or body language, and Tara had a hard time reading him. When she realized he wasn’t planning on answering, she continued. “We have reason to believe that two of the missing persons may have come to the information center, and we were hoping you might be able to help us with piecing together their timeline,” she mentioned with her hand still a millimeter from her gun.

Again, he didn’t respond and his eyes squinted as he studied her face. He didn’t trust her, Tara could tell, and she braced herself for whatever his next move could be.

“Can we come in?” she finally asked. At her question, he raised his eyes to meet hers, staring intensely into them.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he replied with a strange softness in his voice, before a smile crept on his face.

Tara’s hand moved even closer to her gun and she gently placed her hand on top of it. “And why is that?” she asked.

“My place is a mess,” he replied, as his eyes moved toward where Tara’s hand now rested. He stared at it for a brief second and again smiled. “Am I making you nervous?” he asked.

His response was strangely forward, with an unwavering confidence that Tara knew any right-minded person wouldn’t have in a situation like this.