Nines opened his eyes and looked around the floating plateau of the network. Unlike during the day when it was bright and thriving with activity, it was dark, as if night had shrouded the artificial space. There were even blinking lights, like stars glittering across the black shroud. Even so late at night, the floating plateau was busy with androids having conversations and sharing information. Many were updating the messaging boards. His own board was now a running commentary of the various androids who had been tracking the Hickory Killer's vehicle. It was definitely his. His android had been spotted driving it. The sighting of this car, along with what he'd found at the scene, had allowed Nines to confirm Gavin's presence at Detective Yates' murder. Unfortunately, it also led to the painful discovery that it had likely been Gavin who'd pulled the trigger.

There was no doubt that Yates had been chosen deliberately. Whether it was to make Gavin more willing to co-operate or to make him seem like a willing participant remained unclear. Nines was certain he had been coerced. His career meant too much to him to risk throwing it away, and he had too much integrity to commit murder. Gavin's form of justice had always been to bring in the guilty party and put them on trial. Even those who deserved it least, like the men who'd kidnapped Niles, were arrested and put on trial. He would not murder Yates in cold blood.

The Hickory Killer's twisted motivation was unimportant to Nines. His primary focus was on finding Gavin and bringing him home. That was the reason he was currently waiting by his board for his latest volunteer. She worked in the Ferndale area as a housemaid, and had agreed to monitor the surrounding streets. The family she worked for had a dog, so it was easy for her to wander the streets regularly without looking out of place. She didn't keep him waiting long. He'd barely finished reading the updated message boards when the ST300 appeared at his side.

"You found it." There was no other reason she'd call.

"I did. The car was left parked on the street outside seventy-six Ferndale Avenue. The engine was cold, so it had been parked there for some time when I found it. With no one in the area, I can't say who left it or where they went." Nines cursed internally at the news. The Hickory Killer wasn't a fool. He'd likely monitored Yates' body somehow and noted how quickly they'd found it. Dumping the car was the safest course of action. If they were hiding somewhere in the area, they may have moved on to be safe...

"Are there any houses in the area that would make a good safe-haven?" He knew nothing of the area himself, so it made sense to ask his new ally. She hummed thoughtfully, LED spinning yellow as she reviewed what she knew of the suburb. Being an ST300, she reminded him somewhat of Stacey. She'd kept her hair in the same neat style since deviating, brunette curls spilling around her shoulders with bangs barely brushing her soft eyes. Her eyes were a little different, a deep shade of hazel, not consistent with her model. Her clothes had also changed. She wore a neat grey tunic dress with a long-sleeved top beneath and comfortable looking sneakers. Androids didn't feel physical discomfort, so he could only guess she preferred the casual look of sneakers over more formal footwear. Her nose wrinkled a little as she thought, mimicking human facial movements.

"There are a few houses for sale on that street, so they'd likely be empty. People don't come out to view them much, from what I've seen." That didn't necessarily mean much when she wasn't looking for it. "There's also one that's...It isn't for sale, but no one lives there on a regular basis. I don't know if it's a holiday home or if the residents are moving, but it can go weeks or months with no activity. For the past couple of weeks, I've noticed the lights are on at night." It could be nothing, but it was worth looking into. He'd need to be careful though. Calling the DPD or FBI into the area would draw unwanted attention to it and potentially spook the Hickory Killer if he was still in the area. It would be risky for him to go, too. His face was too recognisable.

"What are the addresses of these houses?" To limit the risk of being seen, it was better to choose the right house first. That last house sounded the most promising, but it would be wise to check the other vacant houses to be sure. The ST300 extended her hand to share what information she had. There were five houses for sale. Three of them were listed under Barnsley Estates, a reputable company that had multiple houses in the area. With that in mind, he crossed those off. The Hickory Killer was unlikely to be so brazen when an agent could walk in at any time. Another was listed under Whitehouse Homes, a much smaller agency that dealt in expensive properties. Though much smaller, they were selective and meticulous in their identification process. It was unlikely a false identity would slip by them. The fifth was an independently owned property that the owners were trying to sell by themselves with casual advertisements, cutting out the middleman. The owners lived out of town, so if someone broke in and stayed there for a few days, they were unlikely to be aware of it unless the house had extensive security.

The final house that was not for sale had little listed about it. From what he could find, the deed belonged to Mrs L Rattan, an ailing woman in her nineties who had been placed in assisted living approximately twenty years ago. He found it curious the deed was still in her name. Houses were often sold to pay for assisted living, and hers was expensive. She had two children. Elisa Baton, seventy, lived in California. Stephen Rattan, deceased, had lived in Detroit. Stephen had no children on record, while Elisa's three children had never visited the state. Curious...It seemed a trust had been set up in Stephen's name upon his death to continue payments to the home, but the rest of his fortune had gone to a young man named Richard Stephen Green, forty-four years old.

There wasn't much on record about Richard Green beyond his schooling. He'd been fairly gifted and studied computer engineering at university. Unsurprisingly, he'd worked for Cyberlife for a time before the revolution. Since then, there had been a dramatic drop in activity. He wasn't listed as deceased, but there was no continuing record of what he'd done next. That could mean he'd moved out of the area without updating his records, or that he was employed in something fairly secretive, such as the CIA. Such things would be easy for Colin to look into, so he sent the details over.

"I'm sorry I couldn't do more." The gentle voice pulled Nines back into the present.

"Thank you, Stephanie. You have been most helpful." With a small smile, Stephanie disappeared in a haze of scattered particles. She'd logged out of the network. With two promising properties to explore, Nines returned to his own body. Closing his eyes on the bustling plateau, he opened them in the cheap motel room he'd rented. He could have returned to the penthouse, but he didn't want to make himself traceable. So far, he knew the Hickory Killer wouldn't be able to track him. Even during his investigations, he'd been careful to avoid as many cameras as possible, keeping to the shadows and working mainly at night. Fewer people meant less chance of being seen and remembered. The darkness also made it easy to slip by many cameras and watchful eyes.

He walked to Ferndale Avenue, though it took around two hours. Better to walk and remain relatively hidden than to take a taxi and risk alerting anyone in the system of his whereabouts. They knew the Hickory Killer was skilled with technology, and it wouldn't be the first time he'd surprised them with his ingenuity. With how he'd tracked and watched Gavin, it wouldn't surprise him if he had eyes on certain systems. The less technology he used, the less likely he could be traced. His disappearance may even make the Hickory Killer nervous on some level.

He was less nervous about walking the streets around Ferndale than back in the city. Once he left the last CCTV camera behind, there was little risk in walking on the pavement. Many houses had cameras, but they were privately owned and mostly pointed at their own front porches rather than the wider streets. Pausing at the end of Ferndale Avenue, he looked around for the first number. Four hundred and three was to his left. The Rattan property was two hundred and seventeen. That would be his first target. It was a massive suburb, with a lot of space between the houses. The gardens were generous, front and back, a sign it had been built many years ago, before space was a premium. It certainly explained the high prices.

Upon reaching the right area, he scanned the properties. The cameras in the surrounding houses wouldn't reach the street, and the trees and bushes lining the fence would keep him out of sight in the darkness. Peering through the foliage, the property seemed deserted. It was dark on both floors, and somewhat foreboding in the growing twilight. The light of early morning hadn't arrived, but the distant edge of the sky was turning a deep shade of blue. There were no sensors attached to the gate, nor could he find any cameras. His scans suggested the property was dormant, though a scan of the temperature showed the heating had been on mere hours ago. Someone was or had been in the house.

He hopped the fence, landing in the grass with barely a rustle. Despite his scans, he remained vigilant, silvery eyes scanning back and forth. No cameras. No laser sensors. No tripwires. No EMP devices that he could detect. Was it the wrong house? Or had the Hickory Killer not expected them to get this close? Perhaps he simply didn't care. If there was nothing in the house to help track him, why would he be concerned? DNA should be a concern...That only helped if they had samples to compare it to. Perhaps he was never in the house directly...Any of this could be true, and none of it would be confirmed if he dilly-dallied about outside.

The door was old, requiring a key to unlock it. As an officer of the law, he shouldn't break in. However, since he wasn't working for the DPD at this time, and had no prints to trace, he didn't hesitate before gripping the handle and forcing it open. The door was sturdy, with a Yale lock. Very reliable, though unfortunately, not android proof. The handle loosened as he broke the lock, barely staying in the fitting as it rattled uselessly. The downstairs hall was dark and quiet, and surprisingly modern considering it had belonged to such an elderly lady. Nines could only guess it had been refitted, ready to be sold or rented. As he worked his way around the lower floor, he decided it was almost a show home. There were pictures scattered about of random people, clearly stock photos. It made the house feel lived in and cold at the same time.

The living areas were neat and tidy, decked out in what would have been creams and warm woods by daylight. He left the lights off, unwilling to draw attention from inside or out. Upon entering the kitchen, he could confirm someone had been there recently. Two clean glasses, bowls, and spoons had been left on the drainer. The upturned glasses had water pooling at the base, and the metal drainer was still wet. Nines' LED span yellow as he scanned the room and found multiple fingerprints on various surfaces. Two sets. Gavin! He'd been in the house. The smaller set of prints matched those of Kitty Dawson. Connor had recorded her prints by scanning her room and various personal items while searching for clues when she'd first disappeared.

Heading upstairs, he found what he assumed to be Kitty's room first. The scent was lighter and more feminine than Gavin's. It saturated the small space, suggesting she'd spent a lot of time sequestered inside. The lock on the door suggested it had not been voluntary, however her presence in the kitchen belied that, suggesting she had been allowed to roam freely. Whether it was a regular thing or just for that one meal before they left, he couldn't say. There was nothing to tell him where they'd gone, but the fact the bedding hadn't been changed along with the lived-in feel of the room led him to believe they had left relatively quickly.

There was a clean, tidy guest bathroom, and two other small rooms, but what really made his blood boil was the larger room that had clearly belonged to Gavin. He knew the scent of sex, especially when Gavin was a participant. The room was saturated with it. Gavin's scent lingered, mixing with a light thirium blend much like his own. His LED span red as he approached the bed and scanned the tousled sheets. Dried droplets of release betrayed Gavin's recent activities, and the mixture of clothing pointed to this room being a shared space. There was a recently discarded top on the floor. Gavin's usual style. Nines' LED span red as he held it against his nose and breathed in Gavin's scent. Tears pricked his eyes at the violation. Gavin was his! Someone else was touching Gavin!

Nines, where are you? Connor's voice. Of course. His stress level had triggered an emergency response. His throat ached, anger welling in his chest as he remained in place, clutching the top against his chest. Gavin had been there! Gavin had been intimate with someone else! This was the second time he'd arrived too late. The Hickory Killer was out-playing him at every turn. Even with the help of the AHL's network, he couldn't track him down. Nines! His silvery eyes blinked open, sending tears rolling down his pale cheeks.

Two hundred and seventeen Ferndale Avenue. He was here! He was right here! His frustration was palpable.

It's alright, Nines. I'll contact Colin and we'll be right there. We'll track them down together this time, alright? Nines dropped the woollen top, LED still spinning red as he made his way downstairs. The house had nothing of value to him. Let Connor and Colin come and secure it. He had more important things to do. They couldn't have left more than three or four hours ago. Will you wait for us? The hope in Connor's tone was gut-wrenching, but he wouldn't allow himself to be manipulated. Not when he'd been so close.

Negative. I will continue the hunt.

Hunt? Nines, you don't even know where to start! That was irrelevant. Please wait for us! We can look into this together. What good would that do when Gavin was already gone? There was nothing in the house to hint at where they'd gone. All it confirmed was that he'd been there and that, willingly or unwillingly, he'd been intimate with an android. The Jack Dawson android. The Hickory Killer wouldn't have two. It was too risky, with deviancy being so widespread.

I'll go my own way. Keep me informed. Nines cut the call short before Connor could respond and sent all the data he'd gathered to Colin. Colin was wise enough not to question him. He knew it was a futile effort and chose to support him from a distance. Setting his body on auto-pilot and walking back into the city, Nines accessed the network once more to set up a new alert. Gavin had definitely been in that house. Having left a maximum of four hours ago, he had to be somewhere within a one-hundred-and-forty-mile radius. That seemed like a great distance, but it was better than nothing. The AHL had been diligent in helping him so far. Whether that was out of fear of what he may do or sympathy for his pain, he was uncertain, but he was grateful. Please...Help me one more time.