Micah stepped inside Clyde's room cautiously, almost like he was intruding on sacred ground. The air was still, filled with that same faint sandalwood scent Clyde always carried. The heavy curtains let in just enough light to draw soft shadows across the wall. His gaze roamed the room, the meticulous orderliness that was so undeniably Clyde.
He wandered toward the bed and sat down, the mattress barely dipping under his weight. His fingers absentmindedly brushed the linen fabric until something on the nightstand caught his eye.
A wooden prayer bead bracelet lay there. Micah frowned. Hadn't he seen that exact bracelet on Clyde's wrist in the car earlier? He felt puzzled. How did it get here?
He reached out and picked it up, letting the beads roll between his fingers. It was warm, freshly worn warm. That was strange.
His mind started piecing together possibilities, but before he could settle on one, a movement in the corner of his vision snapped him to attention.
