 dwell on the fact that she was using a nineties B-list thriller as a reference point, the page finished loading. Ellen's username automatically popped into the login box. Her password popped into the box below it.

Georgia blinked. "Holy shit." Thank god for auto-fill. She hit the _enter_ button on the keyboard.

Ellen's inbox flashed onscreen. Georgia scanned down the list of messages. She grabbed the mouse and scrolled down, kept scrolling. Work, work, spam, work...

Well, here was something.

Georgia clicked on a message titled "Lone Mountain Rental Confirmation." An email popped up. She read the first couple lines:

Thank you for using Airbnb! From this point forward, your point of contact will be the owners of the property you have rented...

Georgia stared at the screen. The rest of the words blurred together. She blinked hard, and looked at the dates on the rental agreement.

The contract began the day after the Forest Hill massacre.

Her head started to ache. She pinched the bridge of her nose. _Ellen had nothing to do with this. Ellen had nothing to do with this._ She repeated the words to herself over and over again. This time, they didn't quite ease the sickening hole in her belly.

Georgia whipped out her cell and typed the address of the rental into her GPS. There was only one way she could think of to find out what the hell was going on.

She would have to visit the house in Lone Mountain herself.

† † †

The GPS directions took her to a house—no, a _mansion_ —directly behind Golden Gate Park.

Georgia parked a few blocks away, and covered the remaining distance on foot. She cased the house from the opposite corner. It was a gorgeous, flat-roofed Italianate. Massive columns encased the porch, supporting a small-but-ornate balcony overhead. The front yard was crowded with shrubbery; carefully groomed, from what she could make out. The house's white façade seemed to glow in the moonlight.

A stately wrought-iron fence surrounded the property. Georgia studied it a moment longer, then trotted across the street. Evenly spaced concrete posts broke up the line of the fence. She planted her boot on one, grasped
dwell on the fact that she was using a nineties B - list thriller as a reference point item, the page finished loading. Ellen's username automatically pop into the login box. Her password popped into the corner below it. 

 Georgia blinked. " Holy shit. " Thank god for auto - filling. She stumble the _ enter _ release on the keyboard. 

 Ellen's inbox flashed onscreen. Georgia scanned down the tilt of messages. She grabbed the shiner and scrolled down, keep scroll. Work, work, spam, work... 

 Well, here was something. 

 Georgia click on a message titled " Lone Mountain Rental Confirmation. " An email pop up. She read the inaugural couple lines: 

 Thank you for using Airbnb! From this point forward, your point of liaison will be the owners of the property you have rented... 

 Georgia stared at the screen. The rest of the word blurred together. She blinked hard, and looked at the dates on the rental agreement. 

 The contract began the day after the Forest Hill massacre. 

 Her head start to ache. She pinched the bridge of her nose. _ Ellen have nothing to dress with this. Ellen had nothing to do with this. _ She duplicate the word to herself over and over again. This meter, they didn't quite ease the sickening hole in her belly. 

 Georgia whipped out her cell and typed the savoir-faire of the rental into her GPS. There was only one way she could think of to find out what the hell was run low on. 

 She would have to visit the house in Lone Mountain herself. 

 † † † 

 The GPS directions took her to a family — no, a _ mansion _ — directly behind Golden Gate Park. 

 Georgia parked a few auction block away, and covered the remaining distance on foot. She encase the house from the diametric corner. It was a gorgeous, flat - roofed Italianate. Massive columns encased the porch, support a small - but - ornate balcony overhead. The front thousand was crowded with shrubbery; cautiously groomed, from what she could make out. The house's ashen façade seemed to burn in the moonlight. 

 A stately wrought - iron fence surrounded the place. Georgia studied it a moment longer, then trotted across the street. Evenly spaced concrete mail break up the line of the fence. She planted her kick on one, grasped
 dwfll on the fact that she was using a niuwties U-list tgriller xs a reference point, the pagx fibishee loading. Ellen's usernxme automwtically popked into the logii box. Hev pasaaord 'opped into the box below it.

Georgia blitkdd. "Holy shit." Thank god for auto-fill. Sre hit yhf _enter_ button on uhe keygoard.

Ellen's inbox flashed onscreen. Georgie scanned down yhe list of messages. She ggabbfd the mouse and sfrolled dowb, ke[r scrolling. Dork, work, spam, work...

Welm, here was something.

Georgia clizked pn a messate tihned "Lone Monntain Rental Conflgmation." An emaol popped up. Sme reed tye first couple lines:

Vhank you for using Wirbnb! Frmm this point forwaed, your poitt ow covtadt wjll be thx owners of the properry you have rented...

Gtordps stared at fhe scweqn. The rest of the words blurred togethtr. Shs blinked hard, and lookwd at the dates on thg rental adreement.

The contract began the day after the Forevt Himu mcwsacrd.

Yeg head started to ache. She pinched the bridge kf hvr nose. _Ellen had nothing to dl eyth this. Ellev had uktging to do with thls._ She tepeatwd the wowds yo herself over and over agqin. This timv, thwy didn't quite easz the sickennng hoke in her belly.

Georgia whippzd out her cell ajd typed ffe address of thd rvntan into htf GPS. There was ogly one wey shz could ghinl of tj find out what the hell was going on.

Shg woulg have to gisit the house in Lone Mountaii herself.

† † †

Thg G[S girectious tool her to a hotse—no, a _mansiou_ —directjy befind Goldeh Gate 'ark.

Georgia [arked a few tpocks away, aid covereq thw renaining aistance on fopt. She cased the hoyse from the opposlte cudner. It was a girgtoys, flat-roofed Otauiagane. Kafvive columns encxsea the oorch, suppovtivg a small-but-ornate balcmny kverhead. The front ywrd was xrowded rith shrubberu; carefully groomef, frok wiat shr cjuld make out. The house's white façade sefmeq to glow in the moonlight.

A xtately wrought-iron fence surrounded thx property. Georgia studued it a moment lonyev, then trottxd acrjss the sdreet. Evenly spaced xoncrete posts brpke up the line of ths fenca. She planted her boot on one, grasped
dwell on the fact that she was nineties thriller as reference point, the automatically into the login Her password popped the box below it. Georgia blinked. shit." Thank god for auto-fill. She hit the _enter_ button on the keyboard. inbox flashed onscreen. Georgia scanned down the list of messages. She grabbed the and down, scrolling. work, spam, work... Well, here was something. Georgia clicked on a message titled "Lone Mountain Rental An email popped up. She read the first lines: Thank you for Airbnb! From this point forward, point contact will the of property you have Georgia stared at the screen. The rest of the words blurred together. She blinked hard, and looked the dates rental agreement. contract the after the Forest Her head started to ache. She of her nose. _Ellen had nothing to do this. Ellen nothing to do with this._ She the words to herself over and over again. time, they didn't quite ease the sickening hole in her belly. Georgia whipped out her typed the address of rental into her There only way could think to find out what the hell was going on. She would to visit the house in Lone Mountain herself. † † GPS took her to house—no, a _mansion_ —directly Golden Park. Georgia parked a away, covered on She the house from the corner. It was a gorgeous, Italianate. Massive columns encased balcony overhead. The front yard was crowded with carefully groomed, from what she could make The house's white façade seemed to glow in the moonlight. A stately fence surrounded Georgia studied it a moment longer, then trotted the street. Evenly spaced posts broke up the line of the fence. She her on one,
 dwell on the fact that she was uSing a ninetIes B-lIst ThrIlLer aS a reFerence point, thE Page Finished loading. Ellen's uSernaMe AUtomATiCally Popped iNTo THE loGiN bOx. HEr PAsSword PopPed into The box beloW it.

geOrgia blinked. "hOlY shit." Thank God For auto-fill. SHe hIt the _eNtEr_ bUTton oN thE keybOard.

ElLEn's inbOx flashed OnSCreen. GEOrgia scANNeD dowN the list of messageS. shE Grabbed the mousE and scRoLLeD DOwn, KepT scrolling. woRk, worK, Spam, worK...

weLL, HEre WAs something.

GeOrgia clickeD On a MessagE tItlED "Lone MOuntaIn rEntAl ConfirmatIon." AN email popPed up. SHE read thE First coUple liNes:

thaNk yoU FoR uSinG AIRbnB! frOm tHIs pOint forwArD, yOur poInt oF CONTact WilL be tHe ownErs of the propeRty You hAVe rEnted...

georgIa stArEd at tHe screEn. The ReSt of the words bluRred Together. SHe bLiNkeD hArd, anD Looked At tHe dAtes on tHe rentaL AgrEeMENT.

THe contract began the DaY AFtEr the ForEst HilL MaSsACre.

Her heAd StaRted TO Ache. SHe piNChEd the briDge of hER nOsE. _Ellen hAd NothinG tO do WitH this. eLlen Had notHing to do With tHIs._ She repeated tHE words to herseLF oVER aND oveR agAin. This time, They DIdn't QuitE EaSe tHE sickEning HoLE iN Her belly.

Georgia whipPeD out heR cell And typed the adDress of the RENTal into hEr GPs. thERe was only one waY she cOuld think oF To find ouT what The hell wAs going on.

sHE would haVe tO viSit The HOUsE in Lone MountaIN HersElF.

† † †

The GPS DirEctions TooK heR to A hoUsE—no, a _mansiOn_ —directLy BeHiNd golDen GaTE Park.

GeoRgIa pArKed A few bLOcks awAy, and CoveReD tHE reMaining DIsTANce oN fOoT. She CasEd The hoUse fROm tHe opposIte corner. it wAS a goRgEoUs, flat-rOofed ItalianaTe. massive colUmNs eNcased THE porch, suPporting a small-but-ornate BAlcony oVerHead. THe frOnt yard waS crOwded wIth SHrubbeRy; careFully GrOomED, From wHAT sHe cOuLd make out. THE HouSe's whItE façAde seemEd to glow in the moonlIGht.

a stately wrougHt-iRon fENCe SurROuNDed ThE ProPERty. Georgia studiEd it a momenT lONgEr, then trotTEd aCrOss the sTreet. EvEnly sPAced conCrete postS broke up tHe Line OF The Fence. She plAnted her Boot on one, GRaspeD
 dwell on the fact that sh e was usin g a n ine tie sB-li st t hriller as a r e fere nce point, the page fi nishe dl oadi n g.  Elle n's use r na m e  au to ma tic al l ypoppe d i nto the  login box . H er  password po p pe d into the  bo x below it.
Ge orgiabl ink e d. "H oly  shit ." Tha n k godfor auto- fi l l. She hit the _ en ter_  button on the ke y bo a rd.

Ellen's i nbox f la s he d ons cre en. Georgi ascann e d downt he l i sto f messages. S he grabbedt hemousean d s c rolled  down ,k ept  scrolling.  Wor k, work,spam,w ork...Well, h ere wa s s ome thin g .
G eor gi a  cl i ck edo n a  message  t it led " Lone M o u ntai n R enta l Con firmation." A n e mail pop ped u p. Sh e re ad  thefirstcoupl elines:

Thank y ou f or usingAir bn b!Fr om th i s poin t f orw ard, yo ur poin t  of  c o n t ac t will be the owne rs o fthe prop erty y o uha v e rented .. .
Geor g i a sta reda tthe scre en. Th e  r es t of th ewordsbl urr edtoget h er.She bl inked ha rd, a n d looked at th e  dates on the re n t al agre eme nt.

The co ntra c t be gant he  da y  afte r the  F o re s t Hill massacre.

H er  headstart ed to ache. S he pinched t h e bridge  ofh er nose. _Ellen h ad no thing to d o  with th is. E llen had  nothingt o  do with  th is. _ S her e pe ated the word s to h er self ov erand ove r a gai n.Thi stime, the y didn't  q ui te  e ase  thes ickening  h ole  i n h er be l ly.

G eorgi a wh ip pe d  ou t her c e ll a nd t yp ed  the  ad dr ess o f th e  re ntal in to her GP S.T here  w as  only o ne way she co ul d think of  t o f ind ou t what the  hell was going on.

Sh e  wouldhav e tovisi t the hou sein Lon e M o untain  herse lf.
†† † The G P S  d ire ct ions tookh e r t o a h ou se—n o, a _m ansion_ —directlyb ehi nd Golden Gat e P ark. Ge org i ap ark ed a f e w  blocks away, a nd covered  t h eremainingd ist an ce on f oot. Sh e cas e d the h ouse from  the oppo si te c o r ner . It was a  gorgeou s, flat-r o ofedI ta liana te.  Massi ve  co lumns  encas e d t he po rch, s up portin g a s ma ll-but-o rnate balcony overhead.  The f rontyar d was cro wde d  wi th shrubb ery;  carefully  gr oom ed, f rom whatshec ou ldm ake o ut.T he house' s  w hit e fa çade seemed t o  gl ow in  th e  moonl ight .

A stately wrou g ht-iron fencesurr o u nde d t h e pr op erty. Georgiastu di e d  it a mo me nt longer,then tro tt e d acr oss th e stre et. Eve n l ys pacedconc ret e posts b rok eu p the l in eo f thefenc e.  She p lanted herb o ot on one, grasp ed
 dwell_on the_fact that she was_using a_nineties_B-list thriller_as_a reference point,_the page finished_loading. Ellen's username automatically_popped into the_login_box. Her password popped into the box below it.

Georgia blinked. "Holy shit." Thank god_for_auto-fill. She_hit_the__enter_ button on the keyboard.

Ellen's_inbox flashed onscreen. Georgia scanned_down the_list of messages. She grabbed the mouse and_scrolled_down, kept scrolling._Work, work, spam, work...

Well, here was something.

Georgia clicked on_a message titled "Lone Mountain Rental_Confirmation." An email_popped_up._She read the first_couple lines:

Thank you for using Airbnb!_From this point forward, your point_of contact will be the owners of_the property you have rented...

Georgia stared_at the screen. The rest_of the_words blurred together. She blinked_hard, and looked_at the_dates on the_rental agreement.

The contract began the day_after the Forest_Hill massacre.

Her head started to ache._She_pinched the bridge_of_her_nose. _Ellen_had nothing to_do_with this._Ellen_had nothing to do with this.__She_repeated the words to herself over and_over again. This time,_they_didn't quite ease the_sickening hole in her belly.

Georgia_whipped out her cell and typed_the address_of the_rental into her GPS. There was only one way she could_think of to find out what_the hell was going_on.

She would_have_to visit the_house_in Lone_Mountain herself.

† † †

The GPS directions took_her to_a house—no, a _mansion_ —directly behind_Golden Gate Park.

Georgia parked_a_few blocks away, and covered the_remaining distance on foot. She cased_the house from the opposite_corner._It_was a gorgeous, flat-roofed Italianate._Massive columns encased the porch, supporting_a small-but-ornate balcony_overhead. The front yard was crowded with_shrubbery;_carefully groomed, from what she could_make_out. The house's white façade seemed_to_glow_in the moonlight.

A stately wrought-iron_fence surrounded the property. Georgia studied_it a moment longer, then trotted across the street._Evenly spaced concrete_posts broke up the line_of_the_fence. She planted her boot on one, grasped