Nothing was obviously broken. Nothing was missing. But the room didn’t look used—it looked gone through, the way a space looks after someone has rifled through it quickly and tried, badly, to put things back. The straps weren’t where she kept them. A drawer sat a breath short of closed. The mat was leaning wrong, as if it had been grabbed and abandoned.
And then the window pulled at her attention again. It opened wider than the others in the house—wide enough for a determined adult to squeeze through. If a stranger wanted in without being seen, this was the room they’d choose. This was the only room a robber could access quietly, without passing Marcus downstairs.