Adex drove slowly, the tires crunching on gravel that hadn't been disturbed in months. The road was too silent for comfort; it was narrow and lost in the outskirts of the woods, far from the town's lights or signal bars.
Tall trees loomed over both sides of the road like nosy passers-by, their branches twisted like arthritic fingers as they occasionally brushed against the car's roof. There were no birds or animals; not even the wind dared to stir here. There was only one, sinking house at the road's dead end—one that seemed to have been forgotten long before it could be remembered.
Adex shut off the engine. The abrupt silence hit him like a punch. He glanced at the crooked building, which perched like a secret at the edge of the woods. The paint had peeled away like sunburnt flesh. Vines clung to the wooden porch like parasites. A single broken chair stood in front, swaying slightly.
Anna remained in the passenger seat, her hands clutching her thighs.
"Are you sure this is it?" she asked, barely above a whisper.
Adex remained focused on the house. "Yes. I followed each clue. Every map. Every suggestion in the archives. This house is where Linda Monroe should be."
Anna gulped hard and looked back at the house. "It doesn't look like a place where someone's alive."
"I know," he said. "But Linda Monroe doesn't exactly live a public life, does she?"
Adex turned to face her. She looked terrified. Her face had turned pale, as if whatever was inside the house had already reached out and touched her.
"Nothing will happen to you," he said. "I promise."
"I don't need promises," she said quietly. "I need assurance."
Nonetheless, she stepped out of the car with him.
They had only taken a few steps toward the crooked porch before the front door creaked open and a man walked out.
He was older—in his sixties—yet looked aged due to his prolonged isolation. His thick, white beard draped over half his chest like a scarf. His shirt was only partially buttoned, dirty, and wrinkled. One sleeve hung loosely, while the other clung to a wiry arm gripping a rifle as if it were a part of him.
"Stop right there!" he ordered. His voice sounded like dried wood underfoot. "You got five seconds to tell me who the hell you are and what you're doing here."
Anna stood frozen behind Adex.
Adex raised both hands. "We're not here to cause trouble," he said. "We're looking for someone."
The man's eyes narrowed. "Ain't no one here but me."
"We're looking for Linda Monroe," Adex said. "We believe she—"
"She's dead," the man cut in.
Silence.
Anna gasped quietly.
Adex blinked. "What?"
The man stepped forward slightly, rifle still raised. "She passed a year ago. Now turn around. You've got no business here."
Adex stared at him, showing no reaction or even a blink. He remained still.
"I've gone through all available information about her," Adex stated calmly. "There's no mention of her death at all. No obituary. Not even a hint."
The man's eyes didn't shift. "That's 'cause it's none of your business. Now leave."
He pointed the rifle a little higher.
Anna tugged at Adex's sleeve. "Let's go," she whispered. "Please."
Adex didn't move.
"Now!" the man ordered.
Anna pulled Adex backwards. "Adex, we have to go."
Reluctantly, Adex followed her back to the car. The man didn't lower his rifle until they were safely inside. Adex left the car door open, his gaze fixed on the man standing on the porch. Like a statue carved from stone, the man watched them silently.
Anna was breathing hard in the car. "Adex, please drive. We shouldn't be here."
Adex grasped the wheel but didn't start the engine. His gaze was fixed on the porch.
"He's lying," he said.
Anna blinked. "What?"
"He's lying to us. I saw it in his face. He hesitated when I said Linda's name."
"Adex, he has a gun. What does it matter?" Anna said, her voice trembling.
"I'm telling you—something's wrong. "I have the research right here." He reached into the glovebox and retrieved a folded printout. "Look. This article was published six months ago. The author spent weeks looking for Linda. If she died a year ago, why isn't that here?"
Anna skimmed the page, her lips forming a tight line.
"That doesn't prove she's alive," she muttered.
"There's more," Adex said. "Look at the language. It says she's 'reclusive,' 'rarely seen,' and 'maintains contact only with one known associate.' That's this place. This house. That man."
"So what?" Anna yelled, her voice sharp and her brow furrowed in frustration.
"So why lie about her death unless he's hiding her?" Adex responded.
Anna bit her lip. Her gaze flickered back to the house. The man was no longer on the porch, but his face appeared in the window. He was watching them. Unmoving, he stared directly through the glass as if he could hear everything they said.
"Maybe he's dangerous," she whispered. "Maybe he killed her and he's hiding the body."
"No," Adex said. "He's not hiding a body. He's hiding the truth."
Anna crossed her arms. "And what if he shoots us before we get close enough to hear it?"
Adex didn't answer. He stared back at the man in the window, and the man stared right back. They didn't blink. The man didn't move either—two statues sculpted from something too heavy to disintegrate over time.
"I'm not leaving," Adex said finally.
Anna stared at him. "What?"
"I'm not driving off until I know for sure. Linda Monroe might be the only person who knows what's happening with Jill. And if she's alive, she's worth risking a bullet for."
Anna sat back. Her hands trembled slightly. She stared down at her lap, then at the trees that looked like they'd grow arms any minute.
"I'm scared, Adex," she said softly. "I don't think I can go back there."
He looked at her. His voice softened.
"Then don't. Stay here. I'll go back alone if I have to."
Anna turned away. "You're insane."
The man in the window didn't move.
An hour passed.
Then another.
Adex failed to ignite the engine, didn't touch the keys, and sat staring at the house, watching the windows and counting the shadows. The man vanished from the front window but reappeared in another window, pacing, protecting, or hiding something too big to be buried.
Anna tried three more times to convince Adex to leave. Each time, her voice was thinner and more desperate.
But he sat like a statue behind the wheel.
"I don't think he's protecting a dead woman," he said at last.
Anna stared at him.
"I think he's protecting a woman afraid to be found."
Then he nodded toward the second-floor window, where the curtains had shifted slightly, as if a hand had pulled them aside and released them.
"I think Linda's still in there," Adex whispered.
Anna didn't speak.
The wind still hadn't returned. But the trees were watching now.
And the house was holding its breath.