The night had taken on a much more casual vibe, and she was much more okay with that. Like a group sleepover. Co-ed. It brought back memories of beachside campsites, teenage courting, and ghost stories. She supposed the tales that night could have been ghost stories. Real ones, the most real and depressing of which being Tucker’s mysterious departure. His vanishing. Though the campers had all seemed to keep spirits up enough to just skirt past that one upsetting topic.

To make sure they’d keep things that way, an easy and fun proposition was made: movie night. They’d clustered around the old-fashioned tube TV for the first hour of an ’80s action flick, eager for the escape it provided. Eager to not have to keep looking at and talking with one another. Lea especially, who’d come in and out of the room at various points in the movie, visibly excited and restless. Anxious Lea, almost having burned through the rest of her pack of cigarettes outside.

Kalani had good reason to be only partially invested in the entertainment. She had her own to seek out and explore. She had Ethan, who made it conveniently obvious to everyone that he’d had some kind of work to do back in the barn. Something much more important than mere entertainment, at least until Kalani had gotten the hint. And at least until she finally worked up the courage to sneak away from the couches and blankets and popcorn bowls of Movie Night, almost tip-toeing down the back deck stairs despite everyone already knowing her destination and her intentions there. Kalani, at least, was certain of her intentions. Their intentions together. She wanted to see them realized and acted upon. She wanted that clearly and without mystery, especially having suffered through a summer of the mystery being drawn out through cryptic messages in a newspaper.

The teenage courting was over. They’d grown out of letter writing and fumbling long-distance with the puzzle pieces of what picture they’d wanted. What they’d wanted it to become. She was ready.

She was ready when she entered the warm glow of the barn. Ready for his intentions to seize upon her hard, or however he’d let them. However he needed it was unimportant. Just the fact that he needed it at all. And the fact that he’d get it.

But the look of surprise lingered on his face after she finally made enough noise for him to notice his audience. He’d been staring at her like she had interrupted something.

“Hey,” Ethan said.

“Hey,” Kalani replied, copying the tone he’d used for it. She’d already made a big enough move coming out here to begin with. She’d already stuck her neck out. What was he doing?

“I just came to look at something,” he said.

“Away from everyone else?”

“Yeah, just for a minute.” He turned back to the work table, his shoulder blocking Kalani’s view.

“Should I leave you to it?”

“Huh?” Head down and working.

“Should I not bother you right now?” But it was too late, the feeling having already soured in her. She didn’t mean for it to sour, but it did, and she hated that, too. It was his first night at the house, and she hated how everything hinged so tightly to the smallest little nuance.

She walked closer. Maybe if she could just see what he’d been working on, what had been so important . . .

A laptop.

Images flashed across the screen in quick succession. He kept tapping one of the keys as photographs whizzed by the screen, speeding through, searching for something. He paused once, for a fraction of a second, and Kalani could finally get her bearings. A photograph of the safe house, a view of the front lit up in full sun. And then the blur returned as Ethan continued scrolling through.

“Sorry,” he said.

“It’s okay.” She stood still behind him. She stayed quiet. There was a part of her that felt relieved. It did seem like important work.

“Sorry,” he said again.

Now it unnerved her, his concentration. The fact that someone had taken photographs of the house. She had no idea about any of it.

“Ethan,” she said, “what is it?” His shoulders rose and fell in a big breath. He finally turned away from his laptop screen, turning to her looking just as lost and worried as she felt.

“I think I found an SD card from Tucker’s camera.”

“Where?”

“From his . . . I think from his bag. Do you remember seeing those bags in his room?”

“Yeah.”

“They’re his?”

“I think so.”

“Have you looked in them?” Ethan said.

The idea had never occurred to her. At the start, when she first noticed them, the situation hadn’t developed into its current dire form. Back then, it would have been nosy of her. A violation of his privacy. While his story got more worrisome, she’d almost completely forgotten about them.

“Have you?” Ethan said, still staring at her hard.

“No, I haven’t.”

Ethan frowned. “What about Matthias? Has anyone looked at them? In them?”

“Not that I know of,” Kalani said. “I mean, he never said anything. And I just figured it was Tucker’s or DARC stuff, and, you know, just to let them deal with it.” He was still giving her that look. She squinted at him and said, “What?”

“Nothing, I’m just . . .” He turned back to face the monitor for a moment. And then back to her. “I don’t know. My thoughts are going in a hundred crazy directions.”

She selfishly wanted them all in her direction. But she saw how he’d been hunching over the laptop, how his fingers strained over the keys. There was a stillness in his eye that almost frightened her.

“Sorry,” he said, grabbing a chair and moving it next to his. “Let’s sit and talk awhile. Have you ever seen Tucker with a camera? Taking pictures?”

“No, never. He took pictures with his phone, for fun. But I’ve never seen him with an actual camera.”

“By the looks of it, he just had some little point-and-shoot. And he’s no photographer.”

“Well, what is it?” she said, hoping Ethan would continue through his slide show. “What’s he taking pictures of? And why?”

“Looks like the house, and its surroundings. A few other things.” Ethan cleared his throat. “I don’t know why. The only thing I can think of is it’s his way of communicating to us.”

“Communicating?” Kalani thought again of ghost stories. A voice from the grave. “What do you think he’s saying?”

“I’m not sure yet. But if these locations were important enough for him to shoot, well . . .”

“Then we should go see them,” Kalani said, catching Ethan nodding to the idea even before she finished saying it.

“Yes, we should, if we can identify where they are. That’s the hard part.”

“I saw the house,” Kalani said.

“Yeah, the house. That’s an easy one.” He reached for the keyboard and clicked through a few more photos. Green fields. Tall weeds, shrubs. A forest that looked like one surrounding the safe house. “It’s these ones here that are a little hard to place.”

“It’s around here.”

“It has to be,” Ethan said. “But where?” Then he sat back in his chair, shaking his head. He made a sound like a laugh, but his face was deadly serious.

“Tell me about the bag,” Kalani said.

“The what?” He blinked several times and then said, “Oh, yeah, his bag. So I just unzipped it and went through it. I’m still not a hundred percent it’s Tucker’s, but . . .”

“Did it have patches on it? Like the kind you get in the military, but reflective?”

Ethan nodded.

“I think I saw him with those. I never saw what he kept inside, but . . .”

“Clothes,” he said. “Clothes, mostly. But the odd thing was how they’re packed. From what I know about all the guys in DARC Ops, they’re meticulous about that sort of thing. Keeping their personal effects neat and tidy, like they were still in the service.”

“They sort of still are.”

“Not only were they not folded, or rolled up, but they were dirty. You have a laundry here, right?”

“We’ve got a washer and dryer.”

“And it works?”

Kalani rolled her eyes. “Don’t ask Lea, she wouldn’t know. But yeah, it works fine.”

“They were just all jammed in there dirty. And I found spurs attached to some of the pants.”

“Spurs?”

Ethan gave her a blank stare.

“You mean burrs?”

“The kind that attach to your clothes.”

“When you walk in the woods? Yeah, burrs. Prickly things.”

“Yeah,” Ethan said, rubbing his fingers together. “I picked a bunch of them from his bag, some still attached to clothing.”

“So what do you think that means?”

“It just doesn’t sit right with me,” he said. “It’s almost like someone packed his clothes for him. I don’t like thinking that.”

“Where did you find the SD card?”

“In one of the pockets.”

“How about the camera?”

He shook his head. “No camera.”

She looked at him for awhile, at how his attention moved off her to focus back on his screen. He looked tired. Almost withered. “Are you tired?” He chuckled to himself and she said, “Can I get you anything from the house? A water or anything? Handful of popcorn?”

“Don’t,” he said.

“What?”

“Don’t leave.”

She was almost startled by how he’d blurted it out. By the immediacy of his words and what they’d done to his mouth. “I won’t leave,” she said.

“And let’s just keep this between you and me for now. Okay?”

“Okay.”

He patted her knee, his eyes back on her. Her feeling like they’d never leave. It was the same sensation she’d felt through his newspaper messages, though more filtered and abstract. But it was always there. There, too, back in Hawaii. That feeling had done a lot of traveling.

“Can I help you in here, then?” she said.

“You already are.”

“I am?”

He nodded.

“I feel like I could be doing a better job,” she said. “Sorry, I can’t add much to your camera discovery. There’s been a lot of things to pay attention to in the last few days, and Tucker taking photos around the house wasn’t really at the forefront, I guess.”

“What was?”

“At the forefront?” She smiled.

“Yes, at the forefront of your attention.”

“A lot of things.”

“Trips to Claxtonburg?” he said. “That general store?”

“I won’t incriminate myself.”

“Why? It was on my mind. I knew you had to go somewhere to get the paper. Some type of small-town general store. I just didn’t know where exactly.” His gaze moved about her face, down her neck, and down further, taking her all in.

“I’m glad you’re here, Ethan.”

“Me, too.”

“You’re giving me something to do. A purpose.”

“Oh?” he said.

She felt an energy running through her body, the vibration of electricity. Of anticipation. “Let’s go find where Tucker was taking those shots.”

“Which ones?” Ethan said. “The ones all alone in the field, in the dark?”

Kalani smiled, trying not to let it grow too broadly. She really shouldn’t have been enjoying it like she had. Not with Tucker’s disappearance lingering in the background. There was something a little shameful about that, even worse if Ethan knew.

He must have known a little bit.

The way he’d been looking at her . . . he must have felt at least a little bit of that excitement, too, no matter whose ghost story haunted around in the ethers. No matter how bad things seemed with Tucker, there could at least be some small room for good.

Good . . .Was that was it was? Was it really that wholesome?

She could tell Ethan’s mind had raced ahead, that it was already in the dark of the field with her. Working there. Working their case, together. And whatever else.

No more words had to be uttered between Kalani’s proposition, Ethan packing up his equipment and slipping the SD card in his pocket, and the two of them leaving the barn together. Finally, on the move. It was like they’d been teammates for much longer than just that brief day of insanity on the big island of Hawaii, on the surging crests of a tsunami.

“Do you come out here often?” he asked her as they waded into the darkness beyond the houselights.

“I used to,” she said. “Before the bugs got really bad. I’d come out for a nightly walk. I guess that’s why some of the photos looked so familiar.”

“You are going to show me the locations, right?”

She laughed. “What? Of course.”

“You weren’t just trying to lead me on and lure me away.”

“Of course not.” She wouldn’t tell him how that was a big part of it, but still the more important aspect of their latest adventure was that she really had recalled some of those locations. And with Ethan and his flashlight, and how well he could handle himself in any situation, he’d find what they were looking for in no time.

“Should I be packing?” he asked.

She hoped he was, in every way. Both might be more than necessary. But she could only shrug in response.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said. “And by the looks of it, you are, too.”

She had been walking in front of him, guiding the way along the narrow path through a moonlit field. There was just enough light for him to see all of her weapons. She was normally armed out there, especially during one of her night patrols, but it had hardly crossed her mind that the whole arsenal might be necessary. She was a little glad it was.

“It’s nice,” he said. “The air’s nice out here. You do this to clear your mind, usually? To get away from Lea, maybe?”

“A little bit of both. But I’ve also had some suspicions about who was really out here, aside from the animals.”

“No, I think the Blackwoods guys fit right in,” Ethan said. “I can imagine them slithering around back here. By the way, can I ask how the heck you noticed any of the locations from the photos? Didn’t they just all look the same? Green and more green?”

“No,” Kalani said. “That’s what I want to show you.”

“Show me what?”

“The rocks. There’s an outcropping of rock. Granite. It’s got this really distinct blueish hue.”

“So that’s where we’re going?”

“Yep.” She paused at the end of the clearing, Ethan behind her, his body stopping close. She could almost feel the vibration of his life force bridging the distance between them. He was as excited as she was.

“This is where it starts getting dark,” she said.

“It’s pretty dark already.” But he hadn’t used the flashlight yet. She knew enough about tactics to know he’d wait until the very last minute, until it was absolutely necessary to ruin the natural adjustments their eyes would have already made to the low light. The change of eyes, from human to animal eyes. She wanted to use them on Ethan.

“Did you already get lost?” he said. “Why don’t I take the lead, and you can be backseat driver.”

“That’s a good compromise,” she said, enjoying how his body slid past hers to take the lead. “First thing you’ve got to do is not trip over that log.”

“What log?”

She heard the sound of it in the dark, Ethan’s foot running into it solidly. And then a little laugh as he climbed over the old downed trunk. She stepped over it, too, by memory, and then continued behind as they entered the forest.

“Maybe you should stay in the lead,” Ethan said.

“No, I kind of like watching you stumble around.”

The path had closed in around them. The weeds and edges of ferns made quiet ruffling sounds as their legs swished through them. Moments later, when the foliage grew in particularly close, Kalani felt it necessary to reassure him: they weren’t too far off.

And then she bumped into him. She’d been looking up through the trees at the filtered moonlight when his solid and very much stationary back almost knocked the wind out of her. She whispered an apology, just in case.

His lack of response, or even movement, told Kalani that discretion had been the right move. She just hoped it wasn’t too late. What was he looking at? What was it?

He turned around to face her, to whisper: “We can go back if you want.”

Her whisper: “What? Why?”

“I don’t like this.”

“Do we need backup? Do we need the rest of the crew?”

“No,” he said quickly. It was a surprise. “I mean, I feel bad that I brought you along. I didn’t know it was going to be like this.”

“Be like what?” she said. A gentle breeze played through leafed branches above them. An air that was lighter and cooler than she’d felt all night. Kalani suddenly felt refreshed and almost carefree. “Come on, I used to walk out here all the time.”

He didn’t say anything.

“What was it? What did you hear?”

“It’s what I felt,” Ethan said. “And now, what I feel guilty about.”

“Guilty?” she said, waiting for what felt like an eternity to hear his clarification. It was a response that never came. Finally she said, “Ethan, this used to be my path out here. I’d always walk it. Alone, even.”

“The situation is a little different now.”

She was getting annoyed at his vagueness. “Well, let’s go back, then. Why can’t we go back and get the others?”

He turned to look away from her, peering out through the dark. Without a word, he pulled his gun from the holster.

Kalani whispered, “Ethan . . .” And then drew her own gun. She held it close, looking around his shoulder, still trying to identify the threat.

“We can’t involve them right now,” he finally whispered. “I saw something in the photos . . .”

“What?”

“I saw someone,” he said. “Your sister. In one of the photos out here in the woods. It looked like Tucker had been following her along the trail, tracking her. And in the last photo . . .” He fell silent, arching his ear into the sound of a tree limb groaning in the breeze.

“What?” Kalani said. “What last photo?”

“The last photo he took was of Lea, talking to some guy out here. I have no idea who. Just a . . . well, he didn’t exactly look like a local. He was a big dude. Tattoos everywhere. Mean-looking guy. Did she ever bring a friend around?”

“No,” Kalani said. The betrayal seeped into her. Burning her. She didn’t know it or understand it. She didn’t know if it was justified, but she still felt its heat.

“She never had a guy come around?” Ethan said.

“No.”

“And you’ve never seen anyone like that? Anyone like from the picture?”

“I never saw it.”

“What?”

“The picture,” Kalani said.

“But how I described it.”

“Fine, no, of course not.” She thought again of how quiet it had been. How free their house had been of men that looked anything like the burly crew-cuts she’d imagined from Tucker’s photos and from Ethan’s worst fears. “Well, I mean all you guys sort of look like that. Right? Big, burly. You sure it wasn’t one of your own team? You’re new, right? And maybe it was someone from the SWAT training? We’ve already had some guys come over here. You know, um . . .” She was grasping at straws—for anything that would mean Lea wasn’t . . .

He still had his gun drawn, looking out in the dark.

And so did she. “So, you saw Lea . . .”

“It was the very last photo,” Ethan said.

She had been willing to stay logical and keep her head above the waters of an escalating paranoia, trying so much harder since the episode back in town. She had tried to be the level-headed one. But that simple little fact of her sister getting caught in the last photo began eating away at her most recent efforts at helpful detachment. And now it was cognitive dissonance. Of course it didn’t sit right. Of course it was strange. But her sister . . . Lea . . .

Kalani waited until he faced her again. “So that’s why you don’t want anyone to know. You don’t want to tell her.”

“I don’t want them to know about it,” Ethan said. “Because I don’t know what it means yet, and . . .”

“And what?”

“And, she’s your sister.” Even through the dark, he looked almost sick. The moonlight made him not only pale, but almost green in its nightmarish reflection.

“What do you mean, Ethan?”

“What I mean is . . . I’m probably fucking up big time. I’m trying to protect . . . Well, I don’t know. Fuck. I don’t know if I’m protecting her or you, but . . .”

“Do you want to head back?” Kalani asked. It was her turn to offer him the easy way out, to let him off the hook. It was okay. It was a nice gesture, but she didn’t want to take him down with her. She didn’t want him to feel, as he’d said before, “guilty.”

“Let’s keep moving.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s too late now.”

“No, it’s not.”

“It is. I’ve painted myself in a corner.”

He still hadn’t moved. So neither did Kalani.

“It’s okay,” he said. “It’s a corner with you in it. Right?”

“Ethan . . .”

“No matter what I’m screwing up or possibly throwing away, it’s a corner with you. It’s with you. Right, Kalani?”