One minute earlier and she would’ve caught her on the porch. In the hallway. At the router. But the woman was gone. Julia’s hands were shaking again now—pure adrenaline. She threw the car into park and got out so fast she nearly forgot to close the door. She marched up the ramp, every step echoing with anger. The front door was locked. Not unusual.
But it felt like a message anyway. She unlocked it and stepped inside. The house smelled normal. Clean. Like lemon detergent and the faint, warm trace of laundry. The normality made her want to scream. “Marcus?” she called. No answer. She moved deeper into the house, her footsteps quick, sharp.