I turned the brass doorknob and stepped out into the hallway without making a sound.

The thick hallway carpet swallowed my footsteps as I walked toward the top of the stairs.

I took every step down with slow, deliberate care, keeping my hand firm on the dark banister.

Mark sat on a tall leather barstool at the white quartz kitchen island, his head bowed over his work phone.

His mug of black coffee sat untouched on the counter beside a pile of unopened mail and car brochures.

Sloan stood near the double stainless steel refrigerator, eating Greek yogurt from a plastic tub with a silver spoon.