“I have an idea,” I said, trying to ignore the pang in my heart. Trying to focus on the positive. “I think I know where Tristan is.”

“Park here,” I said as Joaquin turned Tristan’s Range Rover up Magnolia Street. We had borrowed it from the mayor’s house because we would need the backseat if we found Tristan and Nadia, and Joaquin’s pickup had only the cab. I didn’t know whether it was poetic or plain cruel that Tristan would be brought to justice in his own car. Joaquin hit the brakes, and they squealed. “We don’t want them to see us coming.”

“Good call.” Joaquin shoved the gearshift into park. His fingers balled into fists atop his thighs. I knew the feeling. The tension in the air was so tight I felt like if I moved, the whole world would shatter. If I was right, we were about to find Tristan. I had to believe it. My hope was the only thing I had left.

Bea pulled her Jeep up behind us, and her headlights momentarily filled the SUV before she doused them. Night was starting to fall, but with no sign of the sun, evening didn’t look much different from day. Everything was just a darker, murkier shade of gray. I glanced in the side mirror as the doors of the Jeep opened with a muted pop. Five hooded figures piled out and flanked our car.

I rolled down my window as Joaquin did the same. Raindrops slipped along the inside of the car door. Fisher, Kevin, and Cori were on my side, Bea and Lauren on Joaquin’s.

“You really think he’s in there?” Fisher asked, gazing off toward the house in question.

“I refuse to believe it,” Lauren said, her lips pinched. “The searches have been so organized. There’s no way he could have been hiding right under our noses all this time.”

“Not all this time, but maybe in the last day,” I said. “At least, that’s what I’m hoping.”

“Let’s get this over with.” Kevin cracked every one of his knuckles, one by one.

“My thoughts exactly.”

I opened my door, forcing Fisher, Kevin, and Cori to step back. As my feet hit the sidewalk, I saw a tall figure approaching us from the bottom of the hill. For a second I thought it might be Liam, but then he looked up and Pete’s pale skin practically glowed from under his hood.

“What’re you guys doing?” he asked.

“We’re checking the gray house for Tristan,” Kevin said, putting his arm around him. “Let’s go.”

“The more the merrier,” Joaquin said flatly.

We moved together down the sidewalk. I kept one eye on the front door as we approached, in case someone tried to make a break for it. We passed by Bea’s house—a tall white colonial about five doors up from our target—and could hear Bea’s insane charge, Tess, screeching from the fourth-floor window. The sound coiled my shoulders, and I looked at Bea. Her face was a freckled mask underneath her black rain hat, the area under her eyes puffy and dark.

“Don’t even say it.” She sighed and shoved her hands deep into her pockets, hunching away from Tess’s window. We really had to get the dark souls off the island. One more reason to finish this thing.

Suddenly, the door to the house next to the gray one opened, and out stepped Sebastian and Selma. Everyone on the sidewalk froze. As they walked down the front path toward us, their eyes slid over us like scanners, the movement so in synch and unnatural they could have been twin automatons. It was eerie.

“What were you doing in there?” Joaquin asked.

“This is the house we were placed in,” Selma said in her thin, high-pitched voice.

“They placed you here?” I blurted. “I didn’t know there were any boarding houses on this street.”

“There are now,” Lauren said under her breath. Now meaning now that we’re so overcrowded.

The two of them glared at me with their light blue eyes. “There are people here who don’t trust you, you know,” Selma said. “Any of you.”

“People who are going to want to know what’s really going on,” Sebastian added.

Then they turned as one and walked away, side by side, their steps perfectly matched.

“I bet they’re going to meet those people right now,” Kevin said acerbically. “Get them to start asking questions.”

The theory sent a chill right through me. I remembered far too vividly what Tristan had told me about the last angry mob that had formed on Juniper Landing. It wasn’t something I wanted to experience firsthand.

“Why has the mayor not wiped their memories yet?” Fisher asked.

“She tried,” Joaquin informed us. “They refused to be alone in a room with her, and she couldn’t have Dorn subdue them, because there were other visitors waiting to speak with her.”

“God, I can’t take the freaking crowds anymore,” Pete said through his teeth.

“I know,” I said, squeezing his arm as the twins turned the corner at the end of the block. “Especially people like them.”

Bea rocked back and forth from her heels to her toes. “I just want one thing to go back to normal around here. Just one thing.”

The wind whistled in answer, spraying us sideways with a torrent of rain. I wiped my face with the back of my wet sleeve.

“Look, if we can just find Tristan and Nadia, we can have everything back to normal by the end of the night,” I said, glancing hopefully up at the dripping gutters on the gray house. “Once we start ushering people again and the sun comes out, everyone will chill. Even the twins.”

Joaquin blew out a breath, his nostrils wide. “Let’s get this over with.”

He hurried up the gray house’s front walk and tried the door, the rest of us following close behind. It was unlocked, as most houses in Juniper Landing were. Slowly he opened the door and peeked inside. There were no lights on in the parlor or the dining room, but I could see a soft glow flickering from one of the rooms at the top of the stairs.

My heart skipped. Joaquin lifted one finger to his lips, then ever so carefully stepped inside. I tiptoed in after him, followed by Fisher, then Bea, Lauren, Kevin, Cori, and Pete, who was bringing up the rear. I noticed that he’d left the door open, which was quick thinking. The click of the latch might alert whoever was upstairs.

Tristan. Please, please let it be Tristan.

Joaquin brought his boot down on the first step. It creaked so loud I almost screamed in frustration.

“Stay to the side!” Lauren hissed. “Steps are sturdier at the side.”

Joaquin nodded, looking green, and pressed himself up against the peeling wallpaper along the stairway. I held my breath as I crept just behind him, each step an excruciating eternity. My eyes were trained on the front bedroom door. The door to the room where Tristan had spied on me during those days after we’d first arrived—the room where he’d taken me on my first Lifer tour, when I’d tried to kiss him, and he’d broken my heart.

Temporarily. Because he’d felt he had to. Now I wished he’d just left it broken back then. It would have started healing by now.

We’d reached the top of the stairs. Joaquin and I locked eyes, and I saw the determination in his. Suddenly I felt weak and childish and stupid. This was not about how Tristan had betrayed me. It was about Darcy and Dad and Aaron and Jennifer and the other innocent souls suffering needlessly in the Shadowlands. It was time to get them back.

“Screw this,” I said under my breath.

Then I turned and threw open the door, the others right on my heels. The curtains were drawn. The room was lit by two kerosene lanterns and one small candle. The first thing I saw by their uncertain light was Tristan, passed out diagonally across two sleeping bags on the floor. I lost my breath at the sight of him. He was on his back in a black T-shirt, one arm stretched out at his side, the other crooked awkwardly over his chest with a bandage wrapped around his hand. His legs were splayed in dirty, wet jeans. A hank of his blond hair fell across his forehead like a crescent moon.