Andrew's brow furrowed as he bent down slowly, picking up a piece of crumpled clothing from the floor of the hallway. His eyes narrowed as his fingers brushed the soft, familiar fabric. It was a light lavender blouse—one he remembered Sharon wearing not long ago.
"This looks like Sharon's," he muttered, confusion flickering in his eyes. He turned it over, scanning it with disbelief, as if doing so would prove him wrong.
Claire, standing just behind him, gave a tight-lipped smile, her eyes gleaming with something that resembled satisfaction. "Let's check the room," she said smoothly, brushing past him.
Andrew hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. A gnawing sense of dread settled in his stomach as he followed her toward the guest bedroom.
Inside the room, the air was still, heavy with the scent of cologne and something else—something he couldn't place. Claire's eyes darted around as if she already knew what they would find.
