Page 71 of Rest In Peace

"Agent, it's Monica—Victoria's grandmother." Her voice trembled like a leaf in a storm, each word heavy with dread. "She's… she's gone."

My pulse skipped. Gone? I crossed to the window, peering out as if Victoria might magically appear on the lawn below.

"Monica, slow down for me. What do you mean 'gone'?"

"Her bed—it's empty," Monica gasped between shallow breaths. "I went to check on her, and she's not there. Her wheelchair… it's just sitting there like she vanished into thin air!"

"Okay, Monica. I'm here; I'm listening." My hand tightened around the phone. "Did you see or hear anything unusual tonight?"

"Nothing! We both took a nap. I just woke up and… and…." She trailed off, the sound of her panic replaced by the quiet sobbing of a woman unmoored by fear.

"Stay where you are," I instructed firmly. I was already moving toward the stairs, my mind shifting gears.

"Please," she whispered. "Her medication," Monica's voice crackled through the phone, "she can't miss a dose."

"Understood." The words were sharp, clipped with urgency. I paced, feeling the weight of every second slipping by.

"Find her," Monica pleaded.

"Doing everything I can," I assured her, though my gaze was locked outside, searching for a sign, any clue to latch onto.

That's when I saw them through the windowpane, Adam and Sarah, their silhouettes huddled together in the house next door. Their proximity was too close, and their body language was too tense. Suspicion coiled within me like a spring.

"Monica," I said, keeping my voice level while my eyes tracked Sarah and Adam's every move, "I need you to stay calm. Can you do that for me?"

"I'll try," she breathed out, the quiver in her voice betraying her terror.

"Good." My hand hovered above my gun as I took in Sarah's furtive glance and Adam's hurried whisper. Something wasn't right. I could feel it in my bones.

"Agent Thomas?" Monica's anxious tone broke through my focus.

"Stay put, Monica. I'm on it." With those words, I ended the call, my resolve hardening like ice. It was time for a little visit next door.

I slipped the phone back into my pocket. My gaze flickered once more to the window, to the shadows moving within the neighboring house.

It was time to act. Quick, measured steps took me from the room, instincts honed from years in the field guiding my movements. Every sense was alert, every muscle primed for what was to come.

Adam and Sarah, I had questions, and they were going to give me answers, whether they liked it or not.

I pushed through Adam's front door, a careful silence wrapping around me as it closed. Sarah's house loomed next door, its windows dark, secrets tucked behind the curtains. I moved swiftly, feet barely whispering against the concrete.

My eyes swept left to right, once and twice. There were no signs of life or of Victoria.

"Watch yourself," I muttered under my breath.

Closer now, I spotted the wheelchair ramp winding up to Sarah's front porch, an empty testament to accessibility and care. It was too still, too vacant. The hairs on my neck rose. Suspicion pulsed in my veins.

I was steps away from the door when a shape shifted inside. My hand found the gun at my hip, fingers brushing cold metal. Not yet—not until I have to.

"Sarah!" My voice was firm and controlled. "Adam! Open up."

Silence greeted me first, then the sound of a lock disengaging. The door cracked open, a sliver of light cutting through the growing darkness.

"Evening, Agent." Sarah's voice was smooth, too smooth. "What brings you here?"

"Victoria's missing," I said, watching her face for any flicker, any tell. "Have you seen her?"

"Missing?" She looked surprised. "What do you mean missing?"

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