My bike came to a screeching halt on the front lawn as I parked it in front of my house. I threw myself off, my feet nearly toppling over the other to the point I thought I'd collapse on the front lawn face first. Thankfully, our mailbox saved me from embarrassing myself. Not that anyone was watching from the windows. Or at least, that's what I liked to tell myself.

"Shit," I swore, attempting to detangle my legs. It failed, of course.

A brief roar in the distance—similar to that of a truck—caused my head to whip around. My breath hitched in my throat, then quickly relaxed into a sigh at the large vehicle driving alongside the curb. A large blue post office logo designed for everyone to see was plastered across the side of it. From the opposing door, stepped a man I recognized all too well in mailman uniform. His heavy figure and laid back attitude couldn't go unnoticed.

"Hey there, Tyler," he said, a small smile easing onto his face.

I returned his smile and nodded in greeting. "You're pretty early today, Byron."

"Just a little bit"—he chuckled and shuffled through his bag—"well, here you go, since you're here already." When he pulled his hand out, there were a few white envelopes in the clutch of his palm. No creases, no rips, and no wrinkles. Just how my mother liked her mail. It was one of the many reasons she adored Byron since he'd started working this route two months ago.

"Thank you," I said, grabbing them.

"No problem. Give your mom my hellos, will you?" he said. I nodded and backed away while he climbed back into the driver's side of his truck. Then, he was off to the next house.

The envelopes in my hands felt as light as a feather. They were all for my mother as expected. I should have known. The only piece of mail that ever had Junior and I's name on it was a letter from the hospital or our school's. Anything else was a rare occasion.

I stuffed them into the back pocket of my khaki shorts and continued to the front door. A frown wormed its way onto my lips when my phone beeped in my pocket. What was this, the third time in an hour? Too bad it wasn't anything or anyone I'd been looking forward to. Rather, it was just a notification from a stupid game I hadn't even remember downloading.

"Christian, where are you?" I groaned under my breath. Having not heard from him all day, I'd admit, I was starting to get a little nervous. There was nothing worse than a racing heart, moist palms, and anxiety catching in my lungs that made it hard to breathe. Not to mention, the fear chasing after my nerves since I'd left the library.

My head had been swelling with possibilities since Patty and I's conversation. I had promised her I wouldn't think too much about the shadow in my picture. But that promise was already broken. I'd rushed to the police station the minute I scrammed. Christian, however, wasn't even there. Apparently, he and Logan left for the morgue just an hour before I got there. Just my luck.

I knew the protocol and such. Any information from the morgue wouldn't be released to the public until investigators were ready to release updates. That was only if news reporters could get something out of the police too. And from what I'd seen so far, they hadn't been able to get anything yet. There was no word on who either of the three victims were, where they'd come from, and so on. Whatever results Tanya gave Christian and Logan were my only hope.

"Hey, I was wondering when you'd get back! Do you plan on standing out here for the rest of the day or are you going to open the door? You know, I've been looking out the window all this time," a small droning voice said just before I had the chance to grab the knob to the house.

There was a slight squeak in the culprit's voice that could only entail one person approaching me with such confidence. I quickly turned on my heel, narrowing my eyes at Junior as he strolled out of the neighboring house. Mrs. Green, one half of the friendly old couple who lived next door to us, held his hand as she guided him down the strip to her house.

"Stalker," I spat.

"Am not." Junior stuck his tongue out at me. I rolled my eyes and smiled.

"How was he today, Mrs. Green?"

"Hello, Tyler. He was as lovely as always." Mrs. Green giggled at our bickering. Junior left her side the minute they stopped and darted up to me. I patted the top of his head.

"Are you sure? He's very talkative. You can be honest. If he was annoying, I'll report it back to my mom," I said, grinning. I could feel Junior's heated glare on me without having to look. Mrs. Green broke into a fit of laughter.

"Hey! Mommy will start making you watch me while she's at work then," he huffed. Well, I guess he was right about that.

Ever since our mother had started picking up more shifts at the beauty salon, we saw less of her these days. Junior didn't seem to mind spending most of his time with Mr. and Mrs. Green. If he wasn't with them, he was always at a friend's house. If he wasn't at a friend's house, my father had him for a few hours or I was stuck watching him like he'd said.

Part of me felt bad for Junior. He had been getting tossed around like a bean bag since the beginning of the summer. But Mr. and Mrs. Green was spoiling him rotten next door. So, he saw it as living his best life. I knew if I were his age again, I would've been annoyed. That went to show just how different Junior and I really were.

"Hey, who's that?" Junior interrupted my thoughts.

My eyes trailed along his fingers to some sort of red Toyota pulling into the driveway a few houses down from us across the street. Once the car was parked, from the driver's side, I spotted a large man with sleeves of tattoos running down his dark-brown skin, stepping out. I could see his head was shaved down to the scalp when he lifted a dark blue baseball cap from his head.

He opened the back-passenger doors and out jumped two little kids; a boy and a girl, nearly the same age as Junior. Possibly older. The boy had a book in his hands, while the girl had her face stuffed in the screen of a nintendo switch.

I bit my lip, watching closely. "Hey Mrs. Green, did you know we had new neighbors?" I'd never seen anyone parked in that house since the last family moved out fives months ago. Did that mean another family finally bought it? Looked to me like they'd been here a while.

"Oh! You mean those folk over there? If I'm not mistaken, I heard they're just renting the place out for the summer. My husband asked me the same thing last week." She shrugged.

"Last week!?" My eyes bulged. "Seriously? They've been here since last week?"

"Hmm, that's what I'm thinking. But I'm not entirely sure. They don't seem to stick around much. And he doesn't seem to be very friendly." She pointed to the man with a permanent scowl masking his face as he nudged his kids towards the house.

The family of three—possibly more—entered the house. As if the man could feel my eyes on him, he glanced back. His eyes searched up and down the neighborhood until they landed on Junior and I. They lingered for a moment, practically glaring into my soul. I stared back with furrowed eyebrows until he directed his attention back into the open house, then walked in and let the door slam behind them. Well, then. I guess Mrs. Green wasn't exaggerating.

Maybe he thought I was a nosy neighbor.

Having noticed the strange interaction and the way the man's eyes fixed on me for far longer than I liked, Mrs. Green shooed us towards the house. "You boys get inside now, okay? Don't linger around for too long. It's getting late."

"Yes, Mrs. Green." I turned and tugged at Junior's hand. "Come on, Junior. Let's go. Thanks again Mrs. Green! See you tomorrow!" I waved to her as she waved back. My gaze lingered on the man's house one last time before I scurried inside with Junior. And the unpleasant look on his face had branded itself deep into my brain as I went.

* * *

I had propped myself in front of the TV and stalked the news channel for longer than I had anticipated. If I looked at Junior, who was fuming quietly beside me, I'd have to bear with his glaring for another hour. He was missing his favorite marathon of Spongebob. Whatever was keeping him busy on his phone wasn't doing so well anymore. Probably a game or an app of sorts. Those were only one of three things that ever kept Junior occupied long enough to sit still.

The itch crawling along my skin hadn't gone away yet. If I didn't talk to Christian soon, I was going to bite the rest of my cuticles off. Of course, it wasn't like he could hear my silent but urgent pleas for him to call my phone, but that didn't stop his name from circling my thoughts like clock-work. Yikes, patience was something I obviously hadn't improved on since my last therapy session.

I clutched the remote tighter in my hands, my thumb sinking into the same button repeatedly. My thumb was going to go numb soon if I didn't stop. I guaranteed the same bored expression haunted my face. The one I'd been wearing since the news anchors disappointed me again. No matter how many times I flicked through the channels, my blank phone screen mocked my incompetence. Sometimes, I wished being a detective wasn't such a long process.

It was bad enough that our new neighbor's stare was creeping back into my mind again. My adrenaline was kicking into full-drive. Not the good kind either—the kind that left me paranoid towards every and any little thing within twenty feet of my surroundings. Something about his heavy stare left an uncomfortable stirring in my chest.

The depths of his eyes were bottomless; pivoting deep into a pitch-black color that stemmed from no emotion. Or perhaps, a lack of emotion. It definitely wasn't the same look he gave his kids, I assumed they were, seconds before. There was only one person I could compare that first impression stare to, and I wasn't sure she'd win the face off this time. If not even Cecilia's splintered glare could take on this guy's, that said a lot.

Chills traveled the length of my spinal cord until I felt a jolt in my neck. A heavy sigh pushed through my lips as my head sunk back into the couch. Before the silence could bloom any longer, there was a jiggle on the front door, followed by what sounded like a soft thud. Light footsteps trailed down the hallway until our mother stopped at the living room entrance.

"Boys!" My mother's voice soothed me.

"Hey, mom," I said.

"Mommy!" Junior threw his phone to the side and hopped off the couch.

"Hi, little man"—she greeted him with open arms—"how was your day?"

"Mrs. Green fed me some of her sweet potato pie! And then we played some board games. Did you know old people cheat? Mr. Green cheated in Goldfish," he rambled on and on.

"Wow, sounds like you had a lot of fun!" She gasped.

"I did! I always have a fun time with them," he said, grinning. Junior followed her to one of the hallway closets. Their shadows faded before they stepped back into the light of the living room. Her pointed look chose me as its next victim.

"What about you, Tyler? How was your day?" I didn't miss the edge in her voice or the slight narrowness in her eyes. Whether she wanted me to notice or not, the meaning behind her change in demeanor remained the same. This was a part of the overbearing routine we went through.

I shrugged, kicking my feet up. "It was okay."

I didn't think her eyes could narrow any further than they already had. But she proved me wrong when they fell into a squint. A squint so tight, her eyes were barely opened. She wanted to press for more obviously. But she chose not to. Instead, she just let her eyes do the talking. Her tongue stayed glued to the root of her mouth.

I sighed reluctantly, shifting under her judgmental eyes. My lips parted, ready to protest, until a loud noise split through the living room. I nearly dropped to my knees at the sound of my phone breaking the uncomfortable stare down. Christian's name lit up the screen.

"Christian is calling me! Sorry mom, I'll be right back."

"Okay, tell him I said hi," she said, thankfully.

I nodded and snuck out of the living room, pressing my phone to my ear. When I made it to the safety of my room, I answered the call. But I barely had time to initiate the conversation when he spoke two words, "Sulfur powder."

My eyebrows drew together. "What?" I rasped, confused.

"Sulfur powder was found on one of our victims—the woman," he said, and I imagined his face scrunching. "Isn't that what you found at the crime scene?"

"Oh yeah. That's what you mean. But are you sure that's what it was? No ifs and buts about it?" I spoke in a hushed tone.

"We're one-hundred-percent sure it's sulfur powder. When Logan and I got the call from Tanya, I wasn't too sure at first either. But she said it tested positive. And we've finally got a name for our victim. Her name is Fiona Davis," he responded.

"Fiona Davis," I tested the name out. "Hmm, okay. What does the sulfur powder mean though? Is sulfur powder a possible cause of death? Was it found in her system?"

"No, not exactly. There were just remnants of it on her clothing. But it's not likely that sulfur powder was used to cause any internal damage. Tanya hasn't given us the full details yet. We'll know if our other two victims had sulfur powder on their clothing or not soon.

"Then, we can make a determination from there. But at least we have a name to start with. Hopefully, we can find some more information about her. As of right now, we've got nothing. Then, we'll work our way through the other two victims," he concluded.

I stroked the bottom of my chin and plopped down on the floor. "That's so odd. What's someone doing with sulfur powder if they weren't going to use it on any of their victims?" I muttered to myself, frowning.

"Your guess is as good as mine." Christian sighed. "Do me a favor and don't go anywhere near that house again, please. Something about this entire situation rubs me the wrong way."

The possibilities were hard to wrap my brain around. Sulfur powder is used for gardening, so if it wasn't used as a toxin to kill them, what else could it have been used for? There was also the thought that the lake house was old. But still, would an old lake house have sulfur powder laying around it at random? Maybe it was on her clothes before she arrived.

In my vision, there were no traces of sulfur powder that indicated the killer used some. I'd have to wait for the other two autopsies to be examined thoroughly for a connection.

I let loose a hard laugh. "Ha, you're telling me. That house gives me the creeps." I could never forget the goosebumps that struck my skin upon entry and exit of that house. It may have been abandoned but that surely wasn't how it felt. If anything, I still couldn't shake the feeling that someone had been watching me. And I hadn't even told him about the picture yet.

"Tyler," Christian said, sternly, "I'm not messing around here. I know you probably won't listen to me but I at least want you to take into consideration the dangers of what you're doing. Don't get yourself too involved in this mess. Play it safe and don't tell anyone about anything you see, except me. Do you understand?"

"What about Patty?" I pressed. "She already knows everything. Oh, and Mr. Jefferson! He helps me all the time with my visions. Remember?"

There was a hint of annoyance to his tone as he said, "I mean it, Tyler. Please don't make me worry. It'll be your ass if anything happens to you or something goes wrong."

"Okay, okay, fine . . . only a little bit of sharing with Patty and Mr. Jefferson." I could practically feel his eyes rolling to the back of his head from the other end of the phone. A sheepish chuckle left my lips. I didn't hear a no, so I took that as a yes.

"Just remember what I told you. I'm warning you, Tyler!" I winced as the line went dead.

At least I knew I wasn't alone in my overwhelming sense of distraught when it came to this house and its victims. I wondered if Fiona Davis was a resident of this town, or if any other residents had heard of her. If she was a visitor, who was she visiting that she ended up dead? I didn't forget about the foreign coin. Many questions taunted me for the remainder of the day; playing on repeat until an answer was to be found.