He released my arm and pulled the sedan door wider, motioning for me to get inside.

By a quarter to nine that night, the front door of the main house had been locked for hours.

I sat on the edge of the mattress in the master bedroom.

The house smelled heavily of lavender furniture polish, left over from the cleaning crew Melissa had hired to scrub the downstairs before the funeral.

Evelyn’s side of the bed was perfectly smooth.

The blue cotton spread showed no wrinkles, no hollows, nothing to suggest anyone had lain there in seventy-two hours.