Chapter 12

Jennifer stood and felt a wave of fright wash over her. “This makes no sense. Devlin was cruel, but he wasn't insane." Byron's eyes darkened. "Are you sure about that?" Jennifer flipped through the pages of the journal again, now in a frenzy, as if the end would yield answers. She froze at the last page. One line in red ink stared back at her. The house isn’t safe anymore. She looked up sharply at Byron. "Do you think they were inside?" He didn't hesitate. "I think someone wants you to believe that. And maybe it is true. We need to check everything. Now." They ripped through the house room by room, checking for anything - closets, vents, even the attic. But nothing felt amiss. Nothing was out of place. But at that moment, everything felt wrong. Jennifer stood in the doorway of her room, looking at the mirror perched above her dresser. In one corner of the glass lay a fingerprint, faint: too high for her to have left it and too fresh. “I think they were watching,” she whispered