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don’t know what you think we’re going to find out just by looking through the windows,” Olin said as they crossed the lawn, because that was what Connor had told him they were going to do.

Connor had insisted they might see something that could help them figure out who they were dealing with. It sounded ridiculous to him as he was saying it. He had no intention of merely looking through the windows. But it was the pretext Olin needed to come with him.

At least that was what Connor had assumed until he grabbed one of the door handles on the French doors.

“What are you doing?” Olin whispered.

“What do you mean?”

“You said we were just going to look through the windows.”

Connor took a deep breath, exhaled loudly. “I lied. If we want to know what’s going on, we’ve got to go in. We’re not going to touch anything. They’ll never even know we were here.”

“And I’m supposed to trust you now?”

“Stay out here if you want.” Connor pressed down on the handle. He didn’t expect it to turn. Getting in wouldn’t be that easy, he was sure. But it did turn. Perhaps someone had left it open by accident, or perhaps, with the house ensconced by tall brick walls, Dylan didn’t feel any need to ensure all of the doors were locked when he left.

Whatever flavor of crazy he was, an unlocked door was more proof in Connor’s mind that he wasn’t the kidnapper. Still, they had come this far. It was worth seeing what they could find out.

Olin held out his hands. “Wait! What if they have an alarm?”

“Then we’ll run like crazy,” Connor said, and yanked the door open.

They both froze. Listened.

“No alarm,” Connor said. He went in.

Olin looked around, cursed under his breath, and followed him.

“Close the door,” Connor said, and Olin did.

“What are we looking for?”

“I guess we’ll know it when we find it.”

Connor looked left, then right. The kitchen was huge—custom cabinets, stainless steel appliances, marble countertops—and led off to other rooms in both directions. They had to prioritize their search, he realized. Otherwise, they could be here for hours, and who knew when Dylan would get home?

“Look for a basement or an attic. Let’s start there.”

“Why?”

“Where would you hide things you wanted to keep secret?” Connor said, already moving toward a door just beyond the kitchen. Something about it reminded him of the one that led to the attic in his own house. Here, though, it opened into a pantry.

They followed the adjoining hall to the living room. The space was furnished with leather sofas, antique bookcases, an Oriental throw rug, and a velvet fainting couch near the windows. There was only one door within sight, and it led to a half-bath.

When Connor had first visited this house, he had been surprised by the grand nature of the exterior. It did not seem like the kind of place where he would expect to find a man as unstable as the one behind the TruthSeekers website. Now that he had made it inside, it seemed even less so. But this was the registered address for the domain, so they would keep looking.

The only other doors on the first floor led to a coat closet and garage. Apparently, the house had no basement. Just as well. Although Olin hadn’t commented on the trespassing since he had followed Connor inside, he looked nervous.

From the pictures Connor had seen of Olin online and around his house—playing soccer, sailing, posing on hiking trails with his friends and father—he had expected the boy’s confidence to translate into courage. It had not. At least, not when it came to something like this. Maybe the risks associated with hacking into strangers’ websites had made Connor better suited for this task.

“Let’s go upstairs,” Connor said, already leading the way.

At the top of the stairs were a small sitting room that overlooked the foyer and a hallway that forked at the far end. They moved together to that fork, opening doors that led to a laundry room and a linen closet along the way. Connor gestured toward one of the hallways. “You go right. I’ll go left.”

Olin nodded. “Let’s get this over with.”

The first door Connor came upon led to the master bedroom. It looked like it was right out of a magazine, with a four-poster bed and a tray ceiling. And just like the rest of the house, everything seemed to be in its place.

The idea that this room, and all the rest of the rooms, looked like they were straight out of a magazine tickled something in the back of Connor’s brain, and he had only one conscious thought: Is that what’s happening here? The underlying idea that had formed all at once and without words was that the entire house was staged to simulate Dylan’s idea of normality. It suggested a degree of self-awareness Connor had not expected from someone who ran a site like TruthSeekers.

“Hey, Connor.”

“Yeah?”

“Come here.”

Connor stepped out of the bedroom, saw Olin at the other end of the hall, looking through another open door. “What is it?”

“You said we’re looking for a guy named Dylan, right?”

“Yeah.”

Olin pointed at the doorway in front of him. “I think you should have a look.”

CHAPTER 27

Olivia pulled up to the house where the license plate was registered, with two black-and-whites behind her. She noted the old Ford pickup at the top of the driveway and a car of some sort covered by a tarp at the bottom. Olivia intentionally parked in front of the driveway to seal off any chance for escape. The cruisers parked behind her.

The neighborhood was poor, with small, ramshackle houses and weed-infested lawns.

She started moving toward the front door as soon as she was out of the car. The four uniformed officers who had followed her here fell in behind her.

She looked over her shoulder. “You two take the back.” There was no way this guy was going to escape.

Olivia stepped onto a porch that badly needed