She breathed a sigh of relief when the causeway crossed back onto land. The storm surge had overrun the beaches, and she could see surf pawing at the shoulders of the highway. Justin’s safe house was less than a mile west. When she spotted the Crab Shack restaurant, she turned left, splashing through four inches of rippling water as she drove to the very end of the deserted road.

No one else was around. She didn’t see a light or a car anywhere. It was just her and the storm.

When she got out of the car, the water was up to her ankles. The limbs of the oak tree hanging over the house groaned with the wind. She mounted the fence with Curtis Ritchie’s equipment bundled in her arms, and then she kicked her way toward the porch. The air was full of brine. Her lips tasted of salt. She wrenched open the screen door and watched a snake slither in panic down the concrete steps into the water.

Inside, dampness hung in the living room. She could see patches of black mold growing near the air vents. Cockroaches shot for the walls as she stood in the middle of the room, dripping on the carpet. Everything was as she remembered it, cluttered with the debris left by whoever had searched this place. She didn’t think anyone had been here since her last visit. She checked the clock on her phone and wondered when Annalie would arrive.

Peach deposited Curtis Ritchie’s laptop and digital phone on a bruised antique coffee table, marred with circular water stains. She studied the compact house and wondered if there was really anything to find here. The search had been thorough. She eyed the ceiling, but there was no crawlspace overhead. The drawers and cabinets in the kitchen were wide open. So was the refrigerator, which had been raided by bugs. The room smelled of spoiled meat.

She returned to Justin’s bedroom, where she’d found the newspaper article that had led her to Frank Macy. It had been hidden under the filing cabinet. She toppled the filing cabinet with a crash, scattering more roaches. She’d thought there might be papers taped to the underside, but she was wrong. Frustrated, she sat on the ruins of Justin’s mattress.

‘You should have told me what you were doing,’ she said aloud.