He slipped the keys into his pocket and left the storage room as he found it. The door clicked shut without a sound.
The stairwell behind the store was narrow and steep, the handrail wobbling if you put too much weight on it. The beige paint had yellowed with age—someone’s attempt to brighten it years ago. It hadn’t worked.
The steps complained softly beneath him. Old wood. Old building.
But the sound didn’t carry far.
At the top landing, four apartment doors faced each other across a short hall.
He stopped at Unit Four.
Deputy Sara Parker’s door.
He slid the key in and turned it slow, savoring the clean click when the lock gave.
Inside, late-afternoon gray bled through lace curtains. Soft enough to blur edges.
He eased the door closed until the latch caught without a sound.
He didn’t touch everything. That was how amateurs got caught.
Instead, he walked a slow circuit and took inventory.
A mug drying beside the sink. A jacket draped over the back of a chair. Boots lined up near the wall.
His gaze snagged on the refrigerator.
A photo held up by a magnet—sun-faded at the edges.
Sara as a little girl, missing one front tooth, grinning like she’d won the world. She sat on the step of a fire truck in an oversized helmet, legs too short to reach the metal rung.
Behind her stood a man in turnout gear, one hand braced on the rail. His face half-shadowed beneath the brim, but the way he angled toward her—protective, proud—made it obvious.
Her father.
Then he moved on.
Down the short hall.
Into the bedroom.
The bed was made the way she liked it—sheets smooth, blanket straight, pillows flat. Efficient. Forgettable.
He rewrote it.
Covers folded back in a clean line. Pillows propped upright against the headboard like witnesses.
He didn’t lie down. This wasn’t about comfort.
It was about presence.
He pulled a paperback from his bag.
A clean cover. A book she hadn’t chosen.
He placed it dead center on the mattress—right where her body would fall if she came home tired and dropped onto the bed without thinking.
He opened it to the page he’d already chosen.
