touched something important.

“How did you find that out?”

It was the first genuinely honest thing he had said all day.

No denial.

No anger.

Fear.

“Metadata.”

“What?”

“The files show who created them.”

Brandon slowly released a breath.

Then Rachel heard movement on his end.

A door shut.

When he spoke again, his voice had dropped almost to a whisper.

“Rachel, delete those documents.”

She stared straight ahead.

“What?”

“Delete them.”

“Why?”

“You have no idea what you’re looking at.”

“Then tell me.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because this isn’t really about the house.”

Rachel remained silent.

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears.

“Then what is it about?”

Brandon murmured something she couldn’t make out.

“Say that again.”

“You need to stop searching.”

“Brandon—”

“I mean it.”

“So do I.”

“Rachel.”

The fear in his voice was impossible to miss now.

Not fear of her.

Fear of something entirely