CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Ilse felt numb as she followed Sawyer to the front of the large, suburban house. The drive from Olympic Park's trails had passed in silence.
Her mind was still spinning from the news about Kristine, from a night of fitful sleep plagued by horrible dreams, and... on a lesser scale, from the knowledge Sawyer was still in contact with his ex-wife. This last part made the least sense. She wasn't sure why she cared. Why should she?
And yet... she found she did.
Now, as if in a daze, she followed Sawyer to a freshly painted, red, metal door. A small camera blinked above the frame, a hexagonal sticker in the front window read, “Monitored by IBC Security.”
The doorbell had a thin strip of masking tape over it and a small note in neat handwriting, punctuated with a smiley face
