The drive in Ethan’s SUV felt endless. They left behind manicured neighborhoods and luxury homes, heading toward a part of the city he rarely visited.
The West Side was a forgotten grid of cracked sidewalks, aging wooden houses, and rusted fences. Neglect hung in the air.
Ethan’s mind reeled. He remembered that night—the police call, the burned car at the bottom of a ravine along Highway 16. The charred bodies. The coroner, Dr. Bennett, brisk and detached, assuring him dental records confirmed the worst. Sedated and shattered, Ethan had accepted the truth because everyone insisted it was real.
But what if it wasn’t?
And if someone had lied… why?
“It’s there,” Chloe said, pointing. “The blue house with the crooked roof.”
Ethan parked half a block away, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. The house was small, blue paint peeling, windows hidden behind heavy curtains. A tall wooden fence surrounded the backyard.
“Thank you, Chloe.” He handed her a hundred-dollar bill. “Go straight to your grandmother. And don’t tell anyone you brought me here.”
She nodded and ran off.