CHAPTER ELEVEN
Clouds held back the sun in the northern outskirts of the city. Ilse stepped from her Avalon, turning towards where Agent Tom Sawyer was already reclining against the hood of his sedan, facing a small two-story house against the backdrop of the forest. An incessant halo of green and brown, spindly branches and protruding leaves held the horizon in a cradle. The house itself possessed a double lot. The grass had overgrown, and weeds filled the space beneath the windows. Ilse glanced towards her phone at the address Sawyer had provided, then looked back up at the old, poorly maintained house. For a moment she stood still and felt Sawyer watching her while chewing on what looked like a strip of beef jerky.
She needed a moment to focus. Needed a moment to think clearly. Normal
