Page 52 of Stone Coast (Tyson Wild Thriller)

“ D o you think the alarm is on?” Tyson asked when we pulled up to Grayson’s house.

“It wasn’t on when I left,” I said. “I don’t think his sister has the code. I can’t imagine she set it.”

“Is she here in town?”

“She came into town to sort things out.”

“Where is she staying?”

“I don’t know.”

Tyson parked a few houses down from Grayson’s.

We hopped out of the car, casually walked down the street, and up Grayson’s driveway.

The front door had been repaired and was sealed shut with yellow crime scene tape.

It was unsightly in a neighborhood like this.

A grim reminder of the gruesome events. Things like that didn’t happen around here. At least, they weren’t supposed to .

I peered through the window on the way to the back porch. There didn’t appear to be anyone inside, and no cars were parked out front. Grayson’s car still sat perched in the driveway.

In the backyard, I looked into the kitchen and the living room.

The place was empty.

At the back door, far from prying eyes, Tyson worked his magic. He pulled on a pair of nitrile gloves, then took a small lock-picking kit from his wallet, slipped the tools into the slot, and fiddled around. Within a minute, he had unlocked the door. He twisted the handle and pushed the door open.

The alarm didn’t sound.

We crept into the house.

Tyson shouted, “Coconut County. Anyone here?”

There was no reply.

I pulled the door shut behind me. A shiver ran down my spine as I stepped into the kitchen.

“Are you alright?” Tyson asked.

I nodded.

It was the one memory I didn’t particularly enjoy reliving. So far, I was making a bunch of bad memories. I hoped that would change. Brighter days were surely ahead, weren’t they?

I moved across the living room to the foyer while Tyson began to search the house .

Someone had cleaned the tile, but there were still bloodstains in the crevices. The events of that night came rushing back to me in a vision. It stood the hairs on the back of my neck tall.

I helped Tyson search the house.

We didn’t find any tablets, laptops, or cell phones. The desktop computer in Grayson’s office was gone—an empty space remained where the all-in-one monitor had once been.

It was possible Grayson’s sister took the items and any other valuables from the home. But the possibility that someone else had been in here lingered in my mind.

We rummaged through the papers on his desk and looked through drawers and file cabinets. Tyson found a small leather-bound notebook in a locked desk drawer. He flipped through the pages. A sly grin curled his lips, drawing my curiosity.

“What did you find?”

He showed me the page. Grayson had kept notes on usernames and passwords for several sites, among them, his cloud login. All we had to do was pick up a burner and sync the device. We’d have all of Grayson’s photos, messages, and applications.

We locked up when we left and tried to look inconspicuous as we walked back to the Porsche. We hopped in, and Tyson cranked up the engine and pulled away from the curb.

A trip to the mall got us another device. Within half an hour, the data was synced. Tyson started sifting through Grayson’s private life.