The mailbox's old hinges squeaked as I yanked on the handle to the door. The door fell open with a loud swoop and clattered against the metal connecting to it.

"Hmm. . ." I stared into the empty void.

Nothing.

My eyes swept the area to find the streets were just as empty. Not to mention, quiet. Did Byron pass through here already? Was I gone for long? Nah, couldn't have been that long.

I checked the time on my phone.

Ehh, I was only gone for two hours—at most. I shrugged and closed the mailbox, then headed towards the front door of my house. Running water and dishes clashing together greeted me upon entering. Sounded like my mother was doing some cleaning.

I yelled, "Mom!? Did Byron stop by already?"

The clashing came to a halt. "He did!"

"Was there any mail?" I stopped at the kitchen entrance. As I suspected, she had on a pair of light blue gloves—the kind she used when she was deep in a long cleaning session. Which meant, she was trying to distract herself. Which also meant, there was a lot on her mind. No doubt because of the fucked-up situation that's been at hand for the past few weeks.

"Nothing for you, if that's what you're wondering." She let out what sounded like a relieved breath. I frowned. Nothing for me? In hindsight, that'd be a great thing. But I couldn't convince myself to see it that way for several reasons.

When was the last time I got mail? It was starting to feel like a century ago. Ever since that fiasco at Robert's house and Courtney's body turning up dead, my stalker went quiet. I'd like to think maybe they realized things were too heated for them to make a move right now. But honestly, I didn't think that was the case at all. What if they were plotting something else? Something bigger. Anything was possible in my stalker's game.

I was so deep in my head, I didn't realize my mother was slowly approaching me. She pinched my cheek. I reeled back and cringed. She chuckled.

"Try not to overthink it, Ty." She sighed.

"How can I not?" I muttered.

"Tyler." Her volume lowered into her warning tone.

I held up my hands as if to wave my white flag before she laid down the hammer.

"Good." She nodded her head in approval. "Now head upstairs and keep yourself busy before I find something for you to do down here." In other words, get out of my cleaning space before I make you clean too. Ha! She didn't have to tell me twice. I was already gone.

As I dumped my crap out on the bed and got undressed, I stared out the window. More out of habit than anything. I was starting to think maybe that was a good habit too—because the shiny black sports car pulling up beside Robert's house fascinated me.

Not because it was a car no one in this neighborhood could afford. But because it was a car I knew Robert damn well wouldn't drive even if he could afford it. He just didn't seem like that type of guy. And I'd bet my life's savings (which wasn't much) that he wasn't friends with the person in the car either. Not even an acquaintance.

My stomach churned with anticipation as the driver door opened. A man in—what looked like—an expensive gray suit stepped out of the car. I waited for the man to turn his face. But he took his sweet time. Geez, couldn't he move any faster? Just then, I got what I wanted.

My breath hitched.

Sterling?

It wasn't hard to tell that it was him. After all, nothing much changed. He just wore lavish items now and had a chubbier face. He gained a little bit of weight as he aged. But it seemed like he still kept himself in proper shape. Seriously? What was he doing here?

I watched him walk up to Robert's front door. He knocked. No answer. He knocked again. Robert answered after several seconds. Did Robert tell Sterling where he lived? That didn't seem like something Robert would do. Or maybe he would. Shit, my brain was racked with questions.

Out of all the group home residents, Joel, Mark, and Yasmine were the three biggest mysteries to come to light from the past. And after explaining my vision in detail, Christian thought so too. It was time to see if anyone else needed to be added to that list.

The duo disappeared into Robert's house. Robert gave the neighborhood a once-over before he shut the door. I waited by the window. Two minutes went by. Two minutes turned into a few. By the time, ten minutes rolled around, I spotted Sterling leaving the front entrance.

Huh? That was awfully fast. What the hell was that about?

I'd be lying if I said I didn't have the urge to knock on Robert's door.

But what would my approach be? I couldn't pull what I did with Rahim Kumar—back when I inquired about his role as Emerald's father. Robert knew me. You'd think that'd make it easier for me to approach him. But if anything, that made it harder because I couldn't get away with lying my ass off. Especially now that he knew Christian—a detective—was my brother.

After moments of contemplation, I brushed off my hesitation and jogged downstairs. As I passed by the kitchen, I stuck my head in. My mother was still at the sink—no longer washing dishes but scrubbing the counters.

I cleared my throat, then called her name, "Mom."

She paused and turned her head. "What is it?"

"Can you watch me cross the street?"

"Pardon me?" She turned her body fully, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"I need to talk to our neighbor. But I want to do it under your supervision. . . Can I?" My mother clenched her eyes tightly as if she was fighting demons in her head. I thought she'd say no and tell me to go back upstairs. However, it'd appear the odds were in my favor today.

"I'll be standing right on the lawn watching you. If you take too long in that man's house, I'm knocking on that door and dragging you out? Understood?" she stated, firmly.

"How'd you know I was talking about him?"

"Because he's also involved in this mess." She sighed and shook her head.

Fair enough.

I nodded. "Ten minutes tops. That's all I need."

"Your time starts now." She threw her gloves and rag to the side, then followed me towards the front door. Sweat filled my palms as I approached Robert's house. It was a lot more intimidating up close in broad daylight. Probably also because I wasn't running into his house on pure adrenaline unlike before. Still, I forced myself to keep moving. And I knocked.

It was too late to go back.

Once again, Robert took a while to answer. I started to think maybe he wouldn't answer at all. But the door opened just as I began to turn my back.

"What are you doing here?" Robert sounded genuinely surprised.

"Um sorry." I rubbed the back of my neck, a sheepish laugh escaping my mouth. "I'm probably the last person you expected to knock on your door, but I wanted to talk to you."

"Talk to me?" he repeated, slowly. "Kid, what could you and I possibly have to talk about?" I flinched at the sarcasm in his tone. That was a valid question.

I gulped and looked back over my shoulder. My mother's arms were folded and her eyes were narrowed. Robert must have sensed her presence too because when I looked back at him, he was staring over my shoulder at her. He finally removed his eyes off of her and glared down at me. His gaze softened before he opened his door an inch wider to invite me in.

"Fine. What is it, kid?" he said, whilst leaving the door ajar.

"I wanted to ask," I paused and inhaled, "do you remember Joel Cano?"

Robert may not have had a very expressive face. But him shifting his arms in their crossed position told me all I needed to know. Either hearing Joel's name made him uncomfortable, or the fact that I knew Joel's name caught him off guard. For all I knew, it could've been the latter.

Robert waited a moment before speaking. "How do you know Joel?" he asked.

"My brother," I lied.

"Should have guessed it." Robert sighed.

"So, you remember him," I said.

Robert nodded. "Why? What does he matter?"

"He matters for a lot of reasons. What can you tell me about him?"

Robert stroked the bottom of his chin. "Hmm, Joel was a sorry fucker."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means exactly what I said. That sorry bastard was down on his luck. Poor kid didn't have much of a backbone and got harassed because of it."

"And no one did anything to stop it?"

Robert shrugged in reply. "At the time, I only cared about myself. We were all trying to make it in this world in that house. And we all had our own issues. Just a bunch of fucked-up teens. . . I take it, you know all about the group home?"

"Yeah, I do. So, what happened?" I cleared my throat and corrected myself, "I mean, why did the group home close down? I've heard a lot of speculation. Mainly that foul play was involved."

"All of those suspicions aren't entirely wrong. . . The day the group home closed down was the day Joel ended up in the hospital."

I clenched my fists and bit the inside of my cheek. "Seriously? What happened?"

"Joel got into it with another resident. Authorities were forced to investigate and found out this wasn't the first major offense committed in the group home," Robert paused to sigh again and roll his neck before he continued, "specifically by the resident in question."

While Robert explained, all I could think about was Nathan Narvaez. After all, who else could have been involved as the main antagonizer, if not him? As if to prove me right, a bunch of hollering and chanting roped me into grasps. And I could feel the intensity first-hand as I settled into the vision that'd backup all of Robert's answers.