Adam’s childhood home appeared lifeless, empty—no sign of Adam or anyone else.
Nothing stirred. Ian parked up the road from Adam’s home and headed to the back of the house. The early morning hours made it easier for him as he hopped the fence separating the front of the home from the back.
He used the door leading to the basement, rusted and hanging off its hinges, easy enough to slip inside. But unfortunately, the cellar offered nothing of interest. Empty save for a stack of boxes, knick-knacks, broken coffee mugs, and old toys. Nothing worth noting.
The sour feeling in Ian’s gut grew, tasting the bitterness on his tongue as he climbed the stairs to the main floor. The mild stench of mildew and rotten food hung in the air as he pushed open the door to the gutted kitchen. Empty, too, ex
