She considered the small office alcove in the kitchen, where Emma sometimes worked. Emma’s laptop was there. Kayla’s pulse kicked up as she went to it and considered trying to log in and search Emma’s files and emails. No, that wouldn’t work. She didn’t know Emma’s password and if she attempted to hack in she’d risk leaving a sign that she had tried.

Kayla looked in the drawer. Maybe Emma kept something in there.

Sifting through take-out menus, expired coupons, brochures, pens and other odds and ends, she found nothing.

I’m not sure what I’m looking for but I’ll know it when I find it.

She continued glancing around, thinking about the places and spaces that Emma used.

In the living room, there were drawers in the end tables that she and her dad never kept anything important in. Kayla checked there and found coasters and a few magazines. There was the credenza in the dining room. Kayla went through the drawers finding candles, candlestick holders, most of which her mom had bought. She checked cupboards, drawers and storage closets on the main floor—nothing unusual, nothing hidden away.

Upstairs, then.

With Tug panting happily behind her because she had his ball, Kayla checked the guest room, searching the dresser drawers, flipping through the extra sheets and pillow cases. She checked the closet. Not much but blankets and extra pillows.

She found nothing in the upstairs storage closets but bathroom and cleaning supplies.

She entered the bathroom her dad and Emma shared, fragrant with soaps and her dad’s cologne, going through the medicine cabinets, the cupboards, seeing nothing that came close to what she was seeking.

In the master bedroom she went through Emma’s dresser drawers, sifting through her underwear, socks and things. She poked through Emma’s jewelry boxes and accessory organizers.

Nothing there.

Kayla went to the big walk-in closet her dad and Emma shared, confident that if Emma was concealing something, this would be the place.

The air was pleasant with a hint of lavender, reminding Kayla of her mom. She blinked as she stared at Emma’s shirts, pants and dresses hanging where her mom’s clothes used to be.

Mom used to hide our Christmas presents in here.

The shelf above Emma’s clothes held stacks of boxes and books. Kayla took them down and looked through them one by one. Nothing but old bills, and records relating to Emma’s school counseling job in California. Replacing the boxes, she pulled down the books. All of them were textbooks about psychology, education, sociology and counseling. Kayla fanned through them.

Nothing.

The lower storage area contained shoes, boots and slippers. To one side was a set of luggage. Next to it was Emma’s large storage trunk with its metal clamps and latches, sitting on the hardwood floor atop an area rug. The rug was one Kayla’s mom got when they visited Arizona.