No one came to the shed. It was “out of use” according to the notes from the agency. When we got here, I assumed it was because of the long walk through dangerous, wet leaves. They wouldn’t be insured for someone slipping and breaking their neck, so it was out of bounds. I couldn’t ask anyone for help, either. All the nearby cottages were devoid of life: holiday homes. It was a ghost town, minus the town. But something told me she was in the shed, so I kept walking towards it. More careless people might trip and fall, but not me.