Evan Blackhorse — Point of View
The room was still buzzing from Leah’s discovery when Evan stepped back, arms crossed, jaw tight. The compass symbol glowed faintly on the laptop screen, its uneven lines radiating outward like a warning. Eliza was already talking through the next steps with Marianne. Elijah was pacing. Samantha was typing furiously. Leah was backing up her files.
Evan watched all of it for exactly ten seconds before he spoke. “We need to go,” he said.
No one heard him. He said it again, louder. “We need to go now.”
The room stilled. Eliza turned. “Evan—”
“No,” he cut in. “Listen. That house is going to be cleared.”
Marianne frowned. “You don’t know that.”
“Yes,” Evan said, “I do.”
He stepped forward, voice low but steady. “You don’t bleach a place like that unless you’re planning to walk away from it. You don’t install a new vent unless you’re running something temporarily. And you don’t leave tracks that clean unless you’re moving fast.”
Elijah stopped pacing. “Do you think they’re coming back?”
Evan shook his head. “I think they’re already gone. And I think someone is going to sweep that house before we get there.”
Samantha swallowed. “To destroy evidence.”
“Exactly.”
Leah looked at the compass symbol again. “But we don’t know what’s inside.”
“We know enough,” Evan said. “Aiyana was there. We know the tracks stop. And we know that the place smells like bleach.”
Eliza crossed her arms. “We need a plan.”
“We don’t have time for a plan,” Evan said. “We have a window. A small one.”
Marianne stepped forward, calm but firm. “Evan, I understand the urgency. But we need to coordinate. If we breach a site on Boundary Ridge land without—”
“It’s not on Boundary Ridge anymore,” Evan said. “The house sits on the line. The back half is on Red Rock Flats land.”
Eliza blinked. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Evan said. “I checked the survey markers myself. They built it right on the edge. Probably on purpose.”
Elijah muttered, “Of course they did.”
Marianne exhaled. “This implies a shared jurisdiction.”
“Which means,” Evan said, “we don’t need to wait for anyone.”
Leah looked up sharply. “If they’re clearing it, we might lose the symbol. Or equipment. Or—”
“Or another victim,” Samantha whispered.
The room fell silent. Evan nodded once. “Exactly.”
\###
Eliza Morningstar — Point of View
Eliza studied Evan’s face — the tension in his jaw, the certainty in his eyes, the way he stood like someone who had already made peace with whatever they were about to find. He wasn’t being reckless. His demeanor was not emotional. He was a tracker. And trackers knew when the trail was about to go cold.
“Elijah,” she said quietly, “what do you think?”
Elijah didn’t hesitate. “He’s right. If they’re going to wipe the place, they’ll do it fast.”
Marianne looked between them. “If we go now, we go without backup.”
Eliza nodded. “We’ve done worse.”
Leah closed her laptop. “I’m coming.”
“No,” Eliza said immediately. “You stay here. Keep decrypting. If we find anything, we’ll bring it back.”
Leah didn’t argue. She just nodded, eyes wide.
Samantha stood. “I’m coming.”
Elijah shook his head. “No. You stay with Leah. If something happens to us, someone needs to know what we found.”
Samantha’s throat tightened, but she nodded.
Marianne grabbed her coat. “I’m coming.”
Eliza raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”
Marianne’s voice was steady. “Cross‑border cases don’t wait for paperwork.”
Evan was already heading for the door. “Let’s move,” he said. “Before the trail goes cold.”
###
Evan — Point of View
He stepped into the cold air outside the clinic, the wind sharp against his face. Behind him, he heard footsteps: Eliza, Elijah, Marianne. Ahead of him, the road stretched toward Boundary Ridge. Towards the blue house. What awaited them within was their destination. Toward the truth, Aiyana had barely spoken.
Evan opened the truck door. “We’re already late,” he said.
And they drove.
\###
Approach — Evan
The blue house looked different in daylight. No safer. Not less ominous. Just exposed. Evan parked the truck behind the treeline, the same place he’d hidden it earlier. The wind cut across the clearing, carrying the faint smell of bleach even from here.
“They’re clearing it,” he hissed.
Eliza stepped beside him, eyes scanning the yard. “How do you know?”
Evan pointed to the ground. “Tracks. Fresh ones. Someone was here after I left.”
Elijah swore under his breath. Marianne tightened her gloves. They moved as a unit — not rehearsed, but instinctive. Evan led. Elijah flanked. Eliza covered the rear. Marianne stayed close, her hand near her radio.
The house loomed ahead, its faded blue siding peeling like old paint on a forgotten barn. Evan stopped at the porch steps. “Ready?” he asked.
No one answered. They didn’t need to. He tried the door. Locked. Elijah stepped forward with a pry bar. “On three.”
“One.”
“Two.”
“Three.”
The door gave way with a crack that echoed through the trees.
\###
Inside — Eliza
The smell hit first. Not rot. No decay. Just bleach. So much bleach it burned her eyes. The living room was empty — stripped bare. No furniture. No personal items. There are no indications of life. Someone used this space for something and then wiped it clean. Eliza moved slowly, scanning corners, thresholds, and baseboards. “Someone sanitized this place,” she murmured.
Marianne nodded. “Professionally.”
Elijah crouched near the floor. “Look at this.”
A faint line — a drag mark — barely visible, almost erased. Eliza’s stomach tightened. “They missed a spot.”
Evan’s voice came from the hallway. “Back here.”
They followed.
\###
The Room — Marianne Keeshig
The door at the end of the hall was metal. New. Wrong for a house like this. Evan pushed it open. The room beyond was small, windowless, and cold. A vent hummed softly in the corner — the same one Evan had heard earlier. Marianne stepped inside, her breath catching.
A metal table. A drain in the floor. Trays are on a rolling cart, and they are empty. A cooler — unplugged, lid open. Nothing graphic. Nothing overt. But everything about the room was wrong.
Elijah’s voice was low. “This is a processing room.”
Eliza swallowed. “For what?”
Marianne didn’t answer. She didn’t have to.
\###
The Discovery — Evan
He saw it first. A shape in the corner, half‑covered by a tarp. Small. Still. He approached slowly, every step heavier than the last.
“Eliza,” he breathed. “Come here.”
She joined him; her face tightening as she lifted the edge of the tarp. A young male body. No visible injuries. No blood. On the surface, there is no violence. But the skin was pale. Too pale. And the sunken torso made Evan’s chest tighten.
Elijah exhaled sharply. “They harvested him.”
Marianne closed her eyes. “Organ removal. Clean. Surgical.”
Eliza covered the boy again, her hands trembling. “Do we know who he is?” she whispered.
Evan shook his head. “Not yet.”
Samantha’s database would tell them later.
But right now, the truth was enough. This wasn’t a holding site. It was a harvesting site. And Aiyana had escaped it.
###
The Trigger — Elijah Greyhawk
Elijah stepped back into the hallway, pulling out his radio. “This is beyond us,” he breathed. “This is federal.”
Eliza didn’t argue. Marianne didn’t either. Evan stared at the closed door, jaw tight. “They left him here. On purpose.”
Marianne nodded. “A message.”
Elijah keyed the radio. “Dispatch, this is Greyhawk. We have a deceased juvenile at the Boundary Ridge–Red Rock Flats line. Suspicious circumstances. Requesting an immediate federal response.”
The radio crackled. “Copy that, Greyhawk. Stand by.”
Elijah lowered the radio. “They’ll send the FBI,” he said.
Eliza nodded. “They have to.”
Evan looked back at the room — the table, the cooler, the boy under the tarp. “They’re already too late.”