"He hasn't lived here for a long time. Years, in fact."
"I know. That's why I'm trying to find him. Do you know where he is?"
"I have no idea where he moved to, I'm afraid," she said regretfully. "He kept to himself. A very private person. I don't think we spoke more than a handful of times in five years."
May felt the first stirring of panic in her belly.
But then the woman spoke again.
"Alice Vale, who lives across the road, might know. She's an estate agent in our area and I know she tried to get him to sell the house through her, or at least rent it. So she would have been in touch with him."
"Thank you," May said.
She rushed across the road and knocked on the door opposite. A moment later, an energetic-looking woman with bright red hair opened it.
"Good evening."
"Alice Vale?" May asked.
"That's me." Alice frowned. "Are you Mrs. Kingston, wanting to sign the documents? That's who I was expecting."
"No. I'm the deputy sheriff," May explained. "I'm not looking to buy a house, but to find a person. I’m searching for Josh Evans, who used to live opposite you." She pointed. "Do you know where I might find him?"
"I might have a forwarding address," Alice said thoughtfully. "He moved to a small farm, a few miles out of town. I remember visiting him there, to discuss selling his house. In the end he told me he didn't need the money and to stop bothering him." She sighed. "You can’t close every deal, I guess. Let me see if I wrote the information down."
"That would be so helpful of you," May said. The rollercoaster of emotion she was experiencing was making her feel slightly sick.
Alice disappeared into the house. A few moments later, she returned.
"I don't have the address, unfortunately. But I can point you in the right direction, and maybe you can find it for yourself?”
“Please,” May appealed.
“If you take the road out of here going south, toward the lake it's about a mile further. It's a small, red-brick building set back from the road on the left, and you might see the name Meadow Farm on the mailbox. I’m not sure if it’s still there or not.
"Thank you," May said.
"I hope it helps you find him. I’m not surprised he’s in trouble with the law, if that’s why you’re looking for him. He was such a strange man. I distrusted him from the very first time I saw him. He was nervous, guarded. I just didn't like him." She shook her head. "It's good to know that he's off our street."
"I hope I find him, too," May said.
She hurried back to her car, and headed down the road, turning left at the end, onto a gravel road that wound out of town.
The lights of Pitcher fell quickly behind, and ahead there was nothing but darkness.
She kept an eye on the distance she'd traveled, while craning her neck for any sign of a brick building. May had the feeling that this home might not be well lit. She didn't want to miss it.
She pressed on, as the road left the town behind, and curved through the hills. Finally, in the distance she saw the dark outline of a small building.
She slowed the car so that she could see the sign on the mailbox. There it was. Very faded, but she could make out the M of Meadow.
May pulled the car over to the side of the road. It was time to make the call she’d been dreading and confess to Kerry what she’d done. Taking out her phone, she called Kerry, but her sister didn’t pick up. She must be interviewing the suspect and have her phone on silent.
She quickly texted the coordinates through to Kerry, with a message about why she was there.
"I'm on the trail of the killer. I'm outside his farmhouse. I think that's where he is keeping the victims. His name is Josh Evans. Here are the coordinates for the farmhouse."
She hoped Kerry would read the message soon. In the meantime, though, she couldn’t wait any longer. Not when every second counted.
She drew her gun, holding it in her hand, which felt cold and unsteady.
Then May walked up to the farmhouse.
Before knocking on the door, she peered through the windows. The interior was in darkness. There was no sign of anyone. Deciding to knock, she hammered hard on the door.
There was no response.
Panic surged inside her. Was she too late? She couldn't bear the thought that she might have been minutes away from preventing deaths.
However, May remembered what Claire had said about a basement hideout. If anyone was here, they would not be in the house, but buried below it. So she now needed to attract their attention, as fast and loudly as she could. The time for stealth was long gone, she decided. This was now an emergency.
May marched around the house, yelling at the top of her voice.
"Police! Is anyone there? Shout if you can hear me! Police!"
She strained her ears for any sound of a reply. There was no response. Moving along, she shouted again, her voice sounding loud in the silence. May was feeling desperate now.
She felt the bitter taste of failure rise in her throat, as she thought about how she might be so close and yet so far. It might be too late, and he might already have moved his prisoners, or killed them.
And then, at last, she heard the sound she'd been hoping for.
She picked up a faint, faraway cry, coming from somewhere behind the house.