I unlocked the front door and walked into the kitchen.

Jaclyn was standing by the stove, pouring black coffee into my ceramic mug.

She had on a pink silk robe, and her cell phone was propped against the sugar bowl.

“Morning, Agnes,” Jaclyn said, her voice bright and perfectly breezy.

“Where did Benji’s rubber boots go?” I asked.

“Probably out by the back patio,” Jaclyn said, sipping her coffee slowly.

She drummed her long red acrylic nails on the edge of the counter with a quick click.