THE HOUSE ON HILLCREST DRIVE
Vance’s house was at the end of a quiet street, set back from the road by a long driveway lined with old oaks. It was a Colonial, white with black shutters, tidy and proper and completely unremarkable. The kind of house where a beloved therapist might live.
Maya parked three blocks away. Danny was in the back seat, Kaela beside her. Both of them were pale.
“Mom, this is insane,” Danny said.
“I know.”
“If you get caught—”
“I won’t get caught.”
“You don’t know that.”
Maya turned to look at her daughter. “I’ve been doing this for twenty-two years. I’ve broken into more places than I can count. I know what I’m doing.”
“You broke into his office and he knew you were there the whole time.”
Maya had no answer for that.
Kaela spoke. “There’s a back door. Through the garden. He showed me once. He said it was for emergencies.”
“Emergencies?”
“He said sometimes patients needed to talk. Outside of regular hours. He wanted them to have a way in.”
Maya studied her. “How many patients did he give that key to?”
Kaela’s face went pale. “I don’t know. He said only the special ones.”
Maya’s stomach turned.
“Stay here. Both of you. If I’m not back in thirty minutes, call the state police. Not Leah Park. Not Barrow Falls PD. The state police.”
“What do we tell them?” Danny asked.
“Tell them a reporter named Maya Cross is inside the home of Dr. Elias Vance, looking for evidence that he murdered three women.”
Danny’s eyes widened.
“It’s not a lie,” Maya said. “It’s just… early.”
She got out of the car.
The night was cold, the sky clear, the stars bright. She walked along the edge of the road, keeping to the shadows, her footsteps silent on the damp grass.
The back door was exactly where Kaela had described — through the garden, past a trellis of dead roses, hidden behind a thick hedge.
She tried the handle.
Unlocked.
She stepped inside.