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Agent Cook gave her another of those bright, insistent smiles. “We know it’s a lot. But if you could prioritize those employment files and keep an eye out for anything unusual. People who suddenly stopped working, unexplained gaps, that sort of thing.”

Kaitlin tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear nervously, but it was only for show. They were looking for the same thing she was. This may be to her benefit. “All right. And… just to clarify, are you asking me to keep this confidential? I mean, if I find something, who am I reporting to?”

Agent Cook’s smile widened, as if he’d been hoping for the question. “Directly to Sheriff Winters for now. We’d like you to keep your findings to law enforcement only. Discretion matters.”

Kaitlin glanced at Matt, who looked less than thrilled at officially working with her, but he nodded. “That’s right. Anything you find, you bring to me. I’ll have to review the names anyway, to identify any current residents. Not Amy, not the historical society, not the town clerk. Understood?”

She weighed her words carefully to seize the potential opportunity. “So… technically, am I working for the department now? Or?”

Cook cut in before Matt could reply, his tone breezy but decisive. “Consider it a temporary contract. We’ll make it official if you’d like. Matt can handle the paperwork. We just need your expertise and your silence, at least until the investigation’s further along.”

Matt’s jaw was tight, but he nodded again. “Since I already have your resume, I’ll get you some forms. You’ll be listed as a consultant and will be paid for your time. That way there’s no question about your access or your role.”

Kaitlin nodded, her heart thumping with excitement. Another relief to her budget constraints was most welcome. “All right. I understand.”

Agent Cook grinned as if she’d passed some unspoken test. “Great. Well, let’s see your setup, then.”

She led them down the corridor toward the records room, the click of Amy’s boots sharp against the marble trailing behind them. Kaitlin’s palms were damp with cautious anticipation as she pushed the heavy door open and ushered them inside.

The records room was still chaos. Boxes were stacked along the walls, and the air was tinged with dust and dampness. The light from the lone window cast long stripes across the cluttered table and cabinets. Kaitlin gestured at the nearest pile. “That’s payroll, or at least part of it. The labels are faded, but I’ve been working through the spine dates.”

Agent Cook wandered over, flipped open a ledger, and whistled under his breath. “All handwritten. You weren’t kidding about the mess.”

“Definitely not,” she agreed.

Matt hovered at her shoulder, scanning the stacks. “Anything from the late eighties? That’s our first priority. That’s when the home stopped operations.”

Kaitlinpointed to a battered box near the bottom of the heap. “Those are the only ledgers from ’85 to ’91 I’ve found so far. But they’re incomplete. Some pages missing, others water-damaged.”

Agent Cook grinned, undeterred. “You’re the expert. I’ll let you work your magic.”

She glanced at Matt, who offered a brief nod. Of encouragement or warning, she couldn’t say.

Agent Cook’s eyes lingered on her just a moment too long. “If you have any questions, you know where to find us. Or if you need a break from all this dust and gloom, I’m at the inn for the week.”

Kaitlin forced a smile, but the back of her neck prickled. The offer was audacious, just like the man, and a little creepy.

Cook straightened, dusting off his hands as if he’d just solved something himself. “Looking forward to hearing your results.” He turned to Matt. “You coming?”

Matt shook his head. “I’ll stay for a bit. Want to look at the staff rosters myself.”

Agent Cook shrugged and turned on his heel to leave. Amy trailed behind, the crunch of her boots fading as Kaitlin and Matt were left in the stillness.

Kaitlin released a breath. Her pulse was a stuttering beat in her ears. She bent over the nearest box, determined to lose herself in the records and to ignore Matt’s presence.

The door hadn’t finished swinging shut before Matt was moving to the far wall. Kaitlin pretended to busy herself with the open boxes, but she could feel his presence behind her. He filled the old stone room with a restless energy.

He surveyed the shelves and piles. “How are these organized?” he asked, gesturing to a stack of ledgers.

Kaitlin stood up straight and dusted off her hands. “They aren’t. Not really. Some are labeled by year, but most were left wherever they fit. I’ve only managed to separate a few by decade.”

Matt squinted at a box labeled “Staff—1980s,” and then grunted as he slid it onto the table. The lid smacked the table loudly, making Kaitlin jump as he flipped it open. “You think these will have names and addresses?”

“Some of them, yes.” Kaitlin reached for a folder and eased it free from the stack. The paper inside was yellowed, the handwriting old-fashioned cursive and precise. “There are pay stubs, personnel files, sometimes notes about next of kin. But some years are missing. Water damage, probably, or someone took them.”

Matt flipped through a handful of documents, his brow wrinkled. “I’ll need to compare any names you find against town records. Most people who worked here were locals or had family on the island.” He set the folder down, glancing at her. “If they’re still around, I want to talk to them.”

She pressed her lips together. “That’s fine. I’ll keep a running list as I go. But I can’t guarantee how quickly I’ll get through it all. The handwriting alone is a nightmare. Even more so than I’m used to.”