Christie's house was exactly where the address said it would be.
And almost nothing about it suggested that a person had once lived there.
The house looked even worse from the inside.
From the road, it had seemed merely abandoned.
Inside, it felt forgotten.
Destiny stood just beyond the doorway while Renee carefully pushed the door shut behind them. It refused to close completely, leaving a thin strip of daylight between the frame and the door.
Neither bothered fixing it.
The air was stale.
Not foul, exactly.
Just old.
Dust floated through the narrow beams of sunlight coming through the cracked windows. The curtains had faded to an almost colourless grey, their bottoms frayed where they had dragged against the floor for years. A wooden chair sat crooked beside the entrance, one of its legs slightly shorter than the others.
There were traces of a life everywhere.
A chipped ceramic vase on a mantel.
A wall clock that had stopped at 3:17.
