Normal. Almost convincing.
“What can I help you find?” I ask.
“Just looking,” he says.
Of course he is. He moves through the shop slowly, deliberately, touching nothing. Observing everything. My pulse ticks up. This is it. Not an attack. Not yet. But something close.
Something that feels like the edge of a line being tested. I walk back to the counter, forcing myself to stay calm, to act normal. To not give away that I know exactly what he is. Because if Delilah’s right?—
If we push too soon, he disappears. And we lose the chance to learn anything. So I pick up the pen. And write.
Male, approx. 35, scanning interior, no browsing behavior. 1:42 PM.
The man pauses near the back shelves, glancing briefly toward the office door. My grip tightens slightly.
Not that door,I think.
Instinct. Protective. Not just of the space?—
But of what’s hidden beneath it. The basement. The records. The connection to Archer’s family. I don’t know if he knows. But I’m not taking that risk.
“Those are new arrivals,” I say, stepping closer, casually inserting myself between him and the office.
He glances at me again. Smiles.
“Thanks,” he says.
But this time?—
The smile doesn’t reach his eyes.
He leaves ten minutes later. No incident. No confrontation. Just… gone. Like he was never here. Except now we know. For sure.
“They’re inside,” I say quietly once the door closes.
“Yes,” Conrad replies.
“And they’re getting comfortable.”
Delilah nods.
“That’s the dangerous part.”
I look down at the notebook again, at the growing list of observations, patterns, possibilities. Then back up.
“We need to tell Archer,” I say.
Conrad’s brow lifts slightly.
“You think he doesn’t already know?”
“I think he needs to hear it from inside town,” I reply. “Not just from the forest.”
A beat of silence. Then?—
He nods.
“Fair.”
