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front door.
    So it was the right house.
    Now where was Simone? No garage and no outbuildings in the front of the trailer. No vehicle either. He knocked on the door. No answer. No sounds shuffling toward him. Then again, it was in the wee hours of the morning. No one should be answering a random knock on the door.
    He knocked again, louder. “Simone, are you in there? Tia asked me to check on you.”
    He glanced back at his truck, realizing he’d left the door slightly open. As he had the keys in his pocket, he shrugged and pounded hard again.
    This time the door opened slowly in front as if the last pound had unlocked the catch.
    He unhooked his holster and kept his hand on the handle. Glancing behind him to make sure he was alone, he pushed the front door open.
    “Hello? Is anyone home? This is the police.”
    No answer. He stepped inside, the door wide open, and moved forward several feet.
    And damn if he didn’t hear someone breathing. Shit. He spun around, his gun in his hand. “Who’s there,” he snapped.
    But there was no one there. He spun around again, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rising. More woo woo stuff.
    Get a hold of yourself, Dean. There’s nothing here. It was just a normal derelict house. Bad area of town. Nothing he hadn’t seen before.
    He looked for a light switch but there didn’t appear to be one close. He stepped into the living room and held up his phone, the small light giving off barely enough light to see. He could make out wallpaper on the walls – from the eighties if the fuzzy texture was anything to go by. An old couch sat on one side and a busted coffee table on the other. He carried on into the kitchen. Old dishes sat discarded on the counter, a layer of dust on every surface. He bent slightly so he could see if there were spots where the dust had been disturbed.
    And found none.
    He opened the fridge. It had power and the light worked.
    There was food inside. Not much and nothing that looked recent. A can of pop in the door. A bottle of hot sauce on the shelf.
    Interesting.
    He moved through the rest of the house and found two small bedrooms. One was empty with a mattress on the floor. The other held a large bed with bedding tossed on the top. There was an old dresser on the side, its drawers empty and open.
    He walked to the closet. There were only a few items hanging. Someone either had lived here only temporarily, had left in a hurry or…this place had been deserted for a long time. How did that fit with Simone and Tia?
    Pulling out his phone, he walked through to the backyard and glanced around. A couple of old buckets had been tossed against the back. Weeds were knee high and dry, dead looking. A shed sagged in the back corner of the lot. The door sat ajar, swinging drunkenly in the night. The weeds leading up to it were undisturbed.
    “Stefan, it’s the wrong place. This is a deserted mobile home in a rundown trailer park. No one has been here in a long time. It’s in pretty rough shape.”
    “Okay, take note of anything inconsistent and call it a night. I’ll see if I can run this Simone down to a current address. With her phone number I shouldn’t have any trouble.”
    “Do it now and I’ll go take a look. I’m not sure what this address meant to Tia, but it’s not the home of her friend.”
    “I’ll find out. Thanks for checking.”
    “Not a problem. Get the other address for me, and I’ll swing by on my way home.”
    “I’ll have it for you in a few minutes.” There was an odd silence as Stefan clicked several keys. “Simone Depres. 894 Southwind Drive.”
    “Got it. That’s not too far from my place.” He turned and walked out of the dismal backyard, past the horrible trailer and back to his truck.
    “I’ll go now and give you a call in a few minutes.”
    *
    Finally, his third attempt to get to the right room. How could such a place be so difficult? The Bastard walked the hallway heading toward the room Tia slept.
    Someone was playing