Scott's Overtures

Penelope frowns. "That's not right. If there's a murder, doesn't it take a few days to clear out? The kid would have noticed."

"Exactly." Flipping through my papers, I read off the next address. "Let's see what we can find this time."

The next two houses on the list are the same as the first. Quiet, human-populated neighborhoods, with cookie cutter homes. Not a single ward energizing the air. Only the remnants of where wardstones might have been placed.

"I'm starting to think no one's been murdered," Penelope mutters as we pull away from the last house on our list.

The sky's darkening, our bellies rumbling with hunger.

"That can't be. Mr. Fernsby saw the bodies. And Logan." But the uncertainty in my words is palpable.

"Maybe they're both lying?"

"They didn't seem like they were lying." Knocking my knuckles against the papers in my lap, I add, "And these files exist. So it isn't like we can't find any trace at all."