Agent Williams, true to his word, left a couple of hours later. Not before lecturing us one more time about not letting anyone in, reinforcing the windows, and checking the locks again. Once he was satisfied, he grabbed his jacket and said his goodbyes.
"All right, I'm off, but remember what I said. I wouldn't leave if I had another choice, but I need to get back to the Bureau," he said. "If Dunhill's people are moving this aggressively, I need access to files and resources I can't get here."
"Are you sure it's safe for you to go out alone?" Zeke asked, frowning. If anyone found out how much Agent Williams was helping us, his life would be in danger.
"No, I'm not," he answered honestly. "But it's necessary." He gave me a steady look. It wasn't reassuring so much as resolute. "I'll be back as soon as I have something." Then he turned and left.
The house felt strangely hollow without his demanding presence. Zeke and Uncle Donovan busied themselves in the kitchen, trying to find something edible. I sat on the couch staring at the muted TV, my mind replaying the night over and over.
It couldn't have been more than an hour later when Agent Williams was back on our doorstep. His expression was urgent when I opened the door and let him in. He stepped inside fast—too fast—catching me off guard as he shut the door behind him with a sharp click.
"What happened?" Zeke asked, standing immediately.
Agent Williams didn't answer at first. He was breathing hard, like he'd jogged from the car. His eyes were sharp, alert, adrenaline still pumping.
"I wasn't even in the building ten minutes," he said, "when I overheard a call come through dispatch."
"What kind of call?" I asked, dread tightening in the pit of my stomach.
Agent Williams ran a hand through his hair. "A civilian driving past Ted's house reported seeing two suspicious masked individuals forcing their way inside."
"Again? That seems a little stupid. They already took him," Donovan said after swearing under his breath.
"They weren't looking for him," Agent Williams said, clearly agitated by Uncle Donovan's words. "They were looking for whatever he left behind."
"What is it, though?" Zeke asked, frustrated. "Does he have some incriminating evidence or information hidden over there?"
"Probably," Agent Williams said. "And they want it destroyed before anyone else can see it."
"Again, they're covering their tracks," I said.
"Exactly," Agent Williams agreed. "So that means Ted left something important in there. Something Dunhill doesn't want any of us to see."
"Did the sheriff respond to the call?" Zeke asked, stepping closer.
"No. The call was rerouted. Someone intercepted it before it hit the main line," Agent Williams said, shaking his head.
"Meaning what? They went for coffee or what?" Uncle Donovan asked.
"Meaning, smartass, someone in law enforcement is working for Dunhill," Williams said, irritated. "And they're making sure no one—especially officials—goes near the house." The room went still.
"We need to go, then," Zeke said, grabbing his coat.
Williams nodded. "We do, but we go carefully. Quietly. Before Dunhill's people come back for round three."
"I'm going too," I said, standing. My heart was pounding so hard I was sure everyone could hear it.
"No, Rocky," Zeke said, looking at me. He was torn between fear and trust.
"I'm going," I said again. "Ted was a horrible man, but he did warn us about the danger when we first moved in here. So I'm not sitting here waiting to be the next victim. We all go together, and we find whatever they're so desperate to get."
Agent Williams gave me a single decisive nod. "Then let's move."
Zeke stepped toward me, placing his hands on my shoulders. "Rocky, baby..." he pleaded, but I cut him off.
"No, Zeke. You are not talking me out of this. I'm going, and I'm not changing my mind."
"Okay," Zeke sighed, realizing he wasn't going to win this fight.
"I can stay here if you're worried about me, Zeke," Uncle Donovan said with a crooked smile. Zeke just shook his head and ignored the attempt at humor.
"We need to move now," Agent Williams said. "Since Ted's house is right across the road, we'll approach from the side yard and stay out of sight." My pulse quickened at the realization that we were really doing this. Ted's house had never felt far before. If anything, it had always felt too close. But now the short distance felt like a line we couldn't uncross.
"Well, hell. Let's go," Donovan said.
We stepped onto the porch together. The afternoon sun was bright, making the world look deceptively normal. Birds chirped happily, and it felt wrong, like the neighborhood had no idea something terrible had happened.
Agent Williams started across the driveway, then stopped and looked back at us. "We cross when the road is clear. One at a time."
Zeke, Uncle Donovan, and I looked at the empty stretch of road, then at each other. There were no cars, no movement, no neighbors close enough to see us. Just Ted's house sitting there behind crime scene tape. The door was splintered, the blinds crooked, and the air around it felt wrong—unnatural.
"I think we're good, dude. Unless you think the birds are going to call 911," Uncle Donovan joked.
Agent Williams turned on him with a scowl. "Shut the hell up, Donovan. This is serious." Uncle Donovan raised his hands in surrender.
Agent Williams moved first, crossing the road in a quick, controlled stride. Zeke followed immediately, pulling me with him and keeping his body between me and the house. Uncle Donovan brought up the rear, muttering under his breath the whole way. We regrouped in the shadow of Ted's overgrown hedges.
"Stay close," Agent Williams said, glancing back at us. "Stay quiet, and don't touch anything unless I say so." That last part was clearly aimed at Uncle Donovan. We all nodded. Then together we stepped onto Ted's porch, the wood creaking under our weight, and crossed the threshold into the wreckage inside.
Zeke nodded, keeping me tucked close to his side. Donovan hovered behind us, muttering, "Yes, Dad. Good luck with that." I smiled faintly despite myself.
Agent Williams pushed the door open. The smell hit immediately—stale air, dust, and something sharper beneath it. Metallic. Blood. The living room was a disaster. Furniture had been overturned, cushions slashed, and papers were scattered everywhere like a storm had torn through the house.
Uncle Donovan let out a low whistle. "Looks like a tornado with anger issues came through here. Thank God we don't have to clean it."
"No," Agent Williams said quietly. "This wasn't rage. This was methodical. They were looking for something specific."
"And they obviously didn't find it," Zeke finished for him, scanning the room.
Agent Williams didn't answer. He moved deeper into the house, eyes sharp, posture tense. I followed slowly, my stomach twisting with every step. The air felt heavy—not in a supernatural way, but charged. As if the house was remembering what had happened, with echoes of fear still clinging to the walls.
Then I felt it. A faint tug—not physical, but something deep in my chest, a whisper brushing the edge of my awareness.
"Rocky? What's wrong?" Zeke asked when he noticed me stiffen.
"Something's here," I whispered. "Not someone. Something."
"Where?" Agent Williams asked, turning toward me.
I pointed down the hallway. He nodded, and we all moved carefully, stepping over broken glass and scattered papers. The hallway was darker there, the air colder.
Ted's bedroom door hung crooked, kicked in during one of the searches. Agent Williams pushed it open the rest of the way. The room was a wreck. The mattress had been flipped off the bed, drawers dumped onto the floor, and boxes knocked over. But the pull I felt wasn't coming from the chaos. It was coming from the nightstand.
I walked toward it slowly, the tug growing stronger with each step. Zeke stayed right behind me, ready to grab me if anything felt off. The nightstand drawer was half open, splintered around the edges like someone had tried to rip it out entirely and failed. Inside, beneath a pile of receipts and loose change, something glinted. A flash drive. Small, black, easy to miss, and taped to the bottom of the drawer.
"Don't touch it," Agent Williams said, stepping beside me. The moment he reached for it, the air shifted, and a soft, cold breeze brushed my cheek. A whisper followed. "He hid it for you." I froze, and Zeke's hand tightened on my arm.
"What did you hear?" he asked, concern sharpening his voice.
"Someone said Ted hid it on purpose," I whispered. "I think... for me to find."
"Then this is what they came back for," Agent Williams said. He carefully lifted the flash drive with a gloved hand.
"Thank God they were too dumb to find it," Donovan said, exhaling shakily. Agent Williams nodded once, slipping the flash drive into his pocket. That was when the floorboards behind us creaked. It was unmistakable. Not the house settling, not old wood complaining—footsteps.
"Get back!" Agent Williams shouted, spinning toward the closet.
Two masked men burst out of Ted's closet. They were tall, broad, and dressed in black from head to toe. One lunged for me while the other went for Agent Williams. Zeke shoved me behind him so fast I barely registered the movement. When the first man grabbed for my arm, Zeke intercepted him and slammed him into the wall hard enough to crack the drywall.
"Touch her again," Zeke growled, "and I'll break every bone in your body."
The second man swung at Agent Williams, who ducked, grabbed the man's wrist, and twisted. The masked man yelped and dropped the knife he'd been holding.
Uncle Donovan, still in the doorway, threw up his hands. "Oh, hell no. I did not sign up for masked ninjas today!"
The first man recovered fast and swung at Zeke again. Zeke blocked the punch with his forearm, then drove his knee into the man's stomach. The guy doubled over, gasping. The second man lunged for Agent Williams again. Williams stepped aside and let him slam into the dresser, sending a lamp crashing to the floor.
"Donovan!" Agent Williams barked. "Get Roxanne out of here!"
"Come on, kid!" Uncle Donovan said, grabbing my arm. "We need to go before they decide to upgrade from kidnapping to murder."
But the first masked man wasn't done. He lunged again, and this time he wasn't reaching for me. He was reaching for Agent Williams's pocket. For the flash drive. Zeke and I realized it at the same time.
"Agent Williams—he's going for the flash drive!" Zeke shouted.
Agent Williams pivoted, blocked the grab, and drove an elbow into the man's jaw. The guy stumbled back, dazed. The second man snatched up a broken piece of the nightstand and swung it like a club. Agent Williams ducked again, but the blow grazed his shoulder instead of his head.
"Hey, furniture is expensive, you jackass!" Uncle Donovan yelled.
Zeke shoved the first man into the second, and both of them went crashing into the overturned mattress.
"Move!" Agent Williams shouted.
We bolted down the hallway, through the wrecked living room, out the splintered front door, and across the empty road. Behind us, the masked men scrambled to their feet, ran to the front door, and then stopped. They didn't follow us, which felt wrong. They just stood there in Ted's doorway, breathing hard, watching us. Waiting. Agent Williams slammed my front door behind us and locked it.
"Are you okay?" Zeke asked, pulling me into his arms, breathing shakily.
I nodded. "Yeah, I'm okay," I said, even though my heart was pounding so hard it hurt.
Agent Williams leaned against the hallway wall, catching his breath. "They weren't there to fight. That's why we got away. They were there to grab the flash drive—and Roxanne."
"The next time somebody says, 'let's go check out the creepy crime scene,' leave me out of it. I'm staying home," Uncle Donovan said, wiping sweat from his forehead.
"This is a win for us. They didn't get the drive," Agent Williams said, pulling it from his pocket. "And now we find out what dirt Ted had on Dunhill—and why he was abducted."