Nothing. No coffee mugs, no crumpled napkins, no sign of a meal or recent use. The digital clock on the oven blinked 12:00. The fridge hummed, but the light inside never came on when I tugged the door open.
“Weird.” Beth poked her head around the corner.
Daniel tested the faucet. A hiss, then a metallic cough, then nothing. “Pipes are frozen,” he said. “No electricity, no water. But the truck in the garage is here, so they didn’t drive anywhere.”
That detail made the back of my neck tighten. “Maybe they walked?”
Henry shook his head. “Alice’s grandmother doesn’t walk well. She uses a cane, and on bad days she barely makes it to the mailbox.” He ran a hand through his hair, the static lifting it in black strands. “Something’s wrong.”
The hallway to the living room was carpeted with a brown shag that had to date back to the early eighties. At the end stood a stone fireplace, gray and massive, the hearth still heaped with half-burned logs. Something must have shifted when the house settled, because the fire screen now hung half off its hook. Daniel righted it, then poked at the ashes with the toe of his boot.
“Cold,” he muttered. He glanced at the windows, each one crusted with frost and sealed with heavy curtains.
I swept the living room with my flashlight. Most of the surfaces were tidy, but a coat lay on the couch, and next to it, a teacup with an inch of cold liquid inside.
“Henry, do you remember what she was wearing last time you saw her?” I called.
He thought. “Sweatpants, a flannel shirt, slippers. Why?”
I gestured at the coat. Henry ran over and picked it up. “This is Alice’s.”
“Could she have left it up here when visiting her grandmother before, or is it new?”
Henry looked frustrated. “Either is possible, but I don’t think it’d be on the couch still if it was old.”
“Good point.” I released a slow breath. “So she was here.”
“That’s good, at least. It means we’re on the right track,” Beth said, trying to sound cheery, and failing.
I eyed the coat. “If she left, she didn’t bundle up. There’s no way she’d go out in this weather without her coat.”
Daniel grunted, moving to the back of the house. We followed, staying close. He stopped at the last door on the left and listened. I braced myself for the worst. A body, or at least a scene that would haunt my dreams for years.
But the room was empty. Just a bed, made up tight, a few pill bottles on the nightstand, and a wall of books lined up. No evidence of a struggle. No blood. Not even a note.
Daniel doubled back to the mudroom, opened the door to the garage, and flipped the light switch. Nothing. The truck Henry mentioned sat inside, layered with dust and half-blocked by sacks of bird seed. No fresh footprints. No sign that anyone had even opened the garage in weeks.
Back in the kitchen, Daniel stared at the silent oven clock, lips pursed. “We need to call this in.”
“No signal,” Beth reminded him, gesturing at her phone.
He nodded, then gestured for us to sit. “First things first. We make a fire, get the place warm, and figure out our next move. Emma, help me with the woodpile?”
I followed him out onto the porch, where the air had turned sharp enough to bite. He hefted two logs in each arm, then nodded at the darkness. “You see anything weird?”
I shook my head. “No. But it doesn’t feel right, does it?”
He frowned. “I’m not picking up anything right now, but that doesn’t mean it’s safe. Too many variables.”
“And her jacket?” I asked.
He nodded. “She was here. Recently. We’re on the right path.”
“Now, we just need to find her.”
We headed back inside. Both of us tense. Something was definitely wrong. Alice had been here, but what had happened to her? It was like she just vanished.
Henry was slumped in a chair, hands shaking. “I know something happened. I just know it.”
