Emily later hummed an unfamiliar tune while coloring. When Michael asked where she learned it, she answered innocently, “He taught me.” Michael’s chest tightened. Sarah interjected quickly—“Probably from her cartoons”—but Emily shook her head before falling silent, as though realizing she had said too much.
The garage smelled faintly of tobacco, though neither Sarah nor Michael smoked. Michael checked the bins and found cigarette butts buried under crumpled paper. “Maybe a repairman,” Sarah suggested with forced cheer. But the scent was fresh, recent enough that Michael’s skin prickled. Whoever it was, they had been here pretty recently.