Tara was about to respond when she heard the click on the other end. She looked at her GPS. She was almost there. She gripped the steering wheel once again, feeling more determined than ever to find answers.

***

Tara pulled off the main road onto a side street that was quiet and heavily wooded. Fractured sunlight shined through the forest green trees, and at times it hit Tara in the eyes, causing her to squint to see in front of her.

A sign peeked out onto the road ahead of her. She squinted to read it, but she could already tell from a distance that it was weathered with faded lettering. As she got closer, the wooden sign became unmistakably visible and she could see that it marked the entrance to a dirt road. She turned onto it, before letting her car roll to a stop by the sign.

Tara stared at it for a moment. Caked with dirt and age, the words SUNSET BED AND BREAKFAST were barely visible. It was the right place, and Tara could feel a surge of adrenaline at the realization. But just as Tara’s eyes moved above the carefully carved lettering, she recognized something else—almost completely weathered away was the engraving of a setting sun, the same sun carved into the trees at the crime scenes.

This was it. She knew it now for sure. And for the first time, she felt how dangerous this situation could be. She was walking into this alone, with little experience, with not even Warren knowing where she was. She felt a sudden urge to call him and wait for his arrival. But if she was right, if the killer could be taking his victims back alive, she knew she didn’t have that time to waste.

She grabbed her phone and texted Warren the address. It would’ve been stupid of her not to let anyone know where she is. She just hoped he would come before it was too late. She switched her phone to silent and her foot hit the gas pedal. The car bounced up and down on the rock-lined dirt road as it neared the B&B.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves as the road opened up into a clearing. As she saw the sight in front of her, her eyes opened wide. The road opened up into acres of fields with perfectly green grass and a beautifully manicured garden. Behind the garden sat the looks of an old mansion, weathered and decayed, just like the sign. But just behind the garden, Tara spotted movement. It was a woman, whose eyes looked up as Tara neared the end of the driveway. It was the owner, Tara assumed.

The woman stood in a long floral dress that just swept the ground, watering a rose bush. When done, she turned around to face Tara’s car, which had already rounded the driveway and was now parked right before the building. The woman smiled at her—an odd, hollow smile—that suddenly gave Tara a strange feeling. There was an eeriness about her. Maybe it was the smile, or her long stark white hair that fell to the middle of her back, or how she tended to the lawn of a rundown bed and breakfast, or the way she looked at Tara—an odd, blank stare, as if she were looking through her.