Nancy knocks on the front door of the Holloway's house, rattling the doorknob. Locked. Kneeling beside the door, Max fishes a bobby pin out of her hair and fiddles with the lock until it clicks open. They walk slowly inside, cold air enveloping them.
"Tom?" Nancy calls. "Heather?"
The house is silent. As the four of them walk through one of the rooms, Nancy turns her head. "Do you guys smell that?"
A suffocating scent of chemicals greet them when they venture into the kitchen, bottles splayed out on the floor and counters. "Oh, god," Nancy says, holding her hand to her face. "More chemicals."
"You think they're guzzling this shit?" Jonathan asks, peering around at all the empty containers.
"Yeah, either that or they just went on a hell of a cleaning spree."
Glancing at Will, Max frowns. "Last year, Will didn't drink chemicals. Did you?"
He shakes his head. "No, this is something new."
"But what?"
"When you mix chemicals, you create a new substance."
"What if they're making something?"
They head into the living room where a bottle of wine is lying in the middle of the floor, a stain in the carpet next to it. Nancy kneels down and presses her fingertips to the stain. "Blood."
They stare at the wine bottle. "Yesterday," Nancy goes on, "Tom had a bandage on his forehead... He was attacked."
They follow the trail of blood down the hall and into the garage where they find a piece of rope on the ground. "They must have tied them," Jonathan says, kneeling down to examine the rope. "They must have taken them somewhere."
"Mrs. Driscoll," Nancy says. "She kept saying... 'I have to go back.' What if the flaying, it's taking place somewhere else? There must be a place where all this started, right? A source. If we can find the source, then maybe we can stop him. Or at least stop it from spreading or doing whatever the hell he's doing with those chemicals."
"But how do we find the source?" Max asks.
An idea pops into Will's head. "Mrs. Driscoll," he says. "If she wants to go back so badly, why don't we let her?"