Outside the Lake House
The gravel crunched softly under the tires as James brought the black SUV to a slow stop beneath a thick canopy of pine trees. Beyond the brush, the lake shimmered quietly under the late afternoon light, but the house ahead stood still—its windows like blank, watchful eyes.
It was nearly 4:00 PM by the time they arrived. The lake house sat so far outside the city limits that it had taken nearly three hours to reach from the urban center.
Monroe raised a pair of binoculars, sweeping slowly across the structure. “No movement. Curtains drawn. But the car matches Beckett’s—license plate lines up with what we pulled.”
James nodded grimly. “Then we’re in the right place.”
They didn’t exit.
Too risky.
Instead, they waited—watching, listening.
Five minutes later, the
