Her hands were still unsteady when she unlocked the front door. Inside, the house smelled like detergent and the faint medicinal ointment she rubbed into Marcus’s skin—familiar, safe, and suddenly not. Marcus sat facing the TV. He glanced at her, then looked away, like he’d already decided she was overreacting.
Julie didn’t ease into it. “Mrs. Kline thinks she saw someone upstairs yesterday,” she said. “Tell me there’s an explanation.” Marcus’s jaw tightened. He rolled his chair a few inches as if he needed space. “Julie, you’re talking like there’s a thief living in our walls.”