Page 53

I look away first.

"I was wrong."

The admission surprises both of us. Carys doesn't respond. Morrow does. His eyes move between us.

"You're connected."

Neither of us answers.

"I have no idea how I know," he says quietly. "But it's the same feeling I had when I found Carys's name."

My attention sharpens.

"What feeling?"

"That something was missing."

The words settle over the room. Because that's exactly what this feels like. Not a mystery. A missing piece.

Morrow's eyes move between us.

"You were looking for her."

My attention sharpens.

"What?"

"Not just the case."

He looks at Carys.

"Her."

I don't answer. The truth is, the moment I saw her name connected to this investigation, something in me knew I had to come here.

No one speaks. Because the impossible thing about impossible situations is that eventually someone has to acknowledge them.

I have spent my career looking for facts. Evidence. Proof.

But standing in that attic, staring at the message carved into the door, I understand something I’d rather not admit.

Not everything leaves evidence. Some things leave instinct. And my instincts have been screaming since I arrived.

I look at Carys. At Morrow. At the impossible connection between them. Then I make a decision.

"I'm staying."

Carys opens her mouth.

"No."

"Yes."

"Rhett—"

"I'm not asking permission."

Her eyes narrow.