*Chris' POV*
The house never really slept. Even in the quiet hours, it hummed with restless life, low voices from the other room, the occasional buzz of a radio, the muted creak of the floorboards as officers changed shifts. Every sound felt sharper tonight, as if the air itself were waiting to break.
I hovered near the table where the equipment was set up, pretending to study the monitors, though I didn't understand half of what they meant.
The techs rotated every few hours, tired eyes, soft chatter, hands that moved with mechanical precision. Anne stayed close, coordinating everything between them and the officers stationed outside. She spoke calmly, clearly, but her movements were too deliberate, her face too composed. I'd come to know her well enough to see when the calm was an act.
She hadn't slept much either.
The static crackled once. My pulse jumped.
It was nothing, just background noise, but every small sound made me think it was him.
