Tara quickly looked back ahead of her. She didn’t quite know why the woman was watching her, if it was because she didn’t trust her—because she somehow knew that Tara had told her a lie—or if it were for simply no reason at all but to make sure she found her way. But Tara knew it wasn’t just that. She could feel it in each step she took, in every breath of air—each time a bad feeling would flutter in her chest.

Her body tried to tell her in every way to turn around, to not go further, but she knew she couldn’t listen to her instincts. Because, if she was right, if some victims could possibly still be alive, if this property housed the true killer, then she couldn’t let any feeling turn herself away. And so, she continued to creep across the lawn until she stood in front of the barn and her feet stopped.

The incessant burn of the woman’s glare had vanished and Tara turned her head again. She could see her moving away from the garden, toward the bed and breakfast, until she was completely out of view, and it gave Tara a strange feeling. She was relieved to have her gone, but something about her leaving seemed more unsettling than everything else about her. As if her job was done, as if all she needed to do was get Tara to walk to where she was, like holding a carrot above a rabbit trap, but now that Tara was here, she didn’t need to witness what happened next.

Tara crept forward. The door was slightly ajar, but it seemed too intrusive to just walk in, so she knocked and waited, but there was no reply.

“Hello?” she said.

She could hear movement. Someone was in there, but no words were spoken. They had to have heard her, she was sure of it.

“Hello?” she said again, this time louder.

But again, only the sound of movement was heard in response. Whoever it was, wasn’t trying hard not to be heard. In fact, it was as if they wanted her to hear it all because each time she spoke, the sound echoed in return. It was as if someone were moving across the floor, dragging their feet.

She waited a moment and then knocked again, but the sound suddenly stopped only to be replaced by another. It was as if someone were banging against the wall—no, throwing themselves—but underneath it all she could hear a faint, muffled cry and Tara immediately knew something was wrong. She reached for her gun and flung the door open.

Tara’s eyes opened wide as the light of day flooded into the barn and she could finally see the source of the sound. Against the wall, across from her, the light flickered in a girl’s wet eyes. Her mouth was stuffed with something and layered with tape. Her hands were tied behind her back. She was seated, throwing her back against the wall, but at Tara’s presence she stopped, starring at her with a look of fear and hope swirled into one.