For several seconds, neither Elena nor Richard moved.
The silence inside the East Garden cottage pressed against them, broken only by the distant rumble of thunder and the soft whistle of the wind slipping through the cracks in the walls.
Fresh footprints.
Someone had been here.
Richard’s gaze shifted from the muddy tracks on the floor to the brass key resting on the table between them.
“Neither of us touched it,” Elena whispered.
Richard nodded grimly. “Which means someone wanted us to find it.”
A chill ran down Elena’s spine. The old photograph tucked inside her coat suddenly felt heavier, as though the secrets buried inside the East Garden had finally begun to wake.
She stepped closer to the footprints. The mud was still wet.
“Whoever came here can’t be far away.”
Richard grab
