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'In there,' he said. Sandy stepped into the first guest room and turned on the light. 'Stand over there and don't move.' She stepped to the far wall. She watched while Trev searched. He found no blood, no body. A woman's clothes were hanging in the closet, and he supposed they must belong to Maureen. |
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At least she wasn't in this room. |
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Nor was she in the next. The second guest room had a convertible sofa that was still pulled out. Green pajamas were wadded on top of the sheets. For a moment, Trev wondered who'd been sleeping here. Then he remembered that Liam had mentioned using one of his spare rooms. The poor man hadn't been able to sleep in his own bed since Mary's death. |
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'Are you OK?' Sandy asked. |
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He shook his head. 'I knew the people who lived here.' |
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'Well, I hope they're OK.' |
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'Let's check the bathroom.' |
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She led the way, opening the door and stepping over the damp, black clothes heaped on the floor: socks draped over sneakers, corduroy pants, a flannel shirt with panties and a bra on top. |
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A moist white towel hung from the shower curtain rod. The tub was empty, its enamel still beaded here and there with clear drops of water. |
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Trev leaned against a wall. He felt weak with relief. |
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She's not in the house. Sandy didn't bash her head in. God knows, Maureen might be dead or in bad trouble, but at least she isn't here. She could be all right. |
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