Dust immediately seized her throat and stung her eyes. She coughed and squinted through the cloud. There was the faint odor of something musty and, with the exception of a rusty lawn mower in the corner, the shed was empty.

Deven closed the door and winced at the squeak of the hinges. Her head whipped back to the house as she held her breath. A dog barked in the distance and the pouring fountain water continued, uninterrupted. Otherwise, silence. Not even the curtains stirred. Deven knew she had to hurry. Erika probably had only a few more errands before she returned and Deven sure as hell didn’t want to be caught in there when she did. She crouched again and made a dash for the deck, weaving between the outdoor sectional and tables, to the back door.

She jiggled the locked knob, then spotted the rock flower bed and snatched up one of the polished pebbles. Holding her breath, she slammed the rock into the glass, nearest to the doorknob. It shattered with ease and, again, Deven froze to listen. No alarm. No movement. Nothing. She eased her hand carefully through glass shards, wincing only once as a piece nicked her hand. The cut burned but she still managed to grip the doorknob from the inside and fumble the locks out of place. It opened without so much as a squeak.

Deven entered the kitchen and breakfast area, immediately noticing its pristine condition. Not a dish in the sink, not a bowl of fruit on the tempered glass counter, or even a picture hanging on the walls. Where there should’ve been a table were two moving boxes and Deven opened the flap on one to see it was empty.

Next, she moved into the living room keeping her ears perked for any noise other than her roaring breathing. There was a recliner in here with a rug and a mounted flat screen TV. Overall, the furniture was just as sparse here as the rest of the bottom floor. A brand-new luggage set had been shoved against one wall.

Deven peeked out of the front bay window as she passed, relieved when she still didn’t see the Mercedes. A chandelier dripped from above the foyer illuminating an ornate curved staircase that led up to the second floor. Again, Deven listened and was met with silence. “Kennedy?” She half-whispered and then proceeded to ascend the wooden steps. On the top landing, a narrow hallway gave way to numerous doors, each surprisingly empty with the exception of a few more moving boxes. Did Erika even live here? More closets and a couple of tiny bathrooms, and Deven pushed on, the flood of discouragement being to seep in.