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"I'm checking the back."

Sayer hesitates.

"I know another way."

Both of us look at him.

"The gate."

He leads us between two houses to a wooden privacy fence. The latch hangs open. Rhett stops.

"You said your parents always kept this locked."

"They did."

"It wasn't open when you left?"

"No."

Rhett slowly pushes the gate wider. The backyard comes into view. A swing set. A vegetable garden. Halloween decorations packed neatly inside plastic storage bins beneath the deck. Everything looks frozen in time. Then I see it.

The back door. Standing slightly open. A cold shiver runs down my spine.

"You said the police searched?"

"They did."

Rhett's voice drops.

"They also reported securing every entrance."

The door moves. Just an inch. Creaking softly. No wind. No one touches it.

Sayer whispers, "It wasn't open."

Rhett steps in front of us automatically.

"Carys."

"I know."

"No."

His eyes never leave the doorway.

"I need you to actually listen this time."

Despite myself, I nod. He pulls a flashlight from his jacket. The morning sun is bright enough that he shouldn't need it. Yet he switches it on anyway. Then, with one careful step after another…

He walks toward the open door. Rhett pauses on the back step. He doesn't cross the threshold immediately. Instead, he crouches, sweeping the flashlight slowly across the doorframe.

"What are you looking for?" I ask.

"Anything."

He traces a finger just above the latch.

"Scratches."