The doorbell rings just as I’m entering the living room, wearing a pair of jean shorts and a T-shirt that I found in the closet. They fit me surprisingly well. Given what Peter said about this being Kent’s house before, I’m guessing all the women’s clothes here are Yulia’s.
Hopefully, she won’t mind if I borrow them.
The doorbell rings again.
“Peter?” I call out, looking around, but there’s no response. He must be out of the house.
Taking a breath, I walk over to the front door and open it.
Outside are the two young women I saw earlier, with the baby now sleeping in a stroller. They look to be in their early twenties and are dressed in sundresses and casual sandals. One is petite and strikingly pretty, with a thick, glossy curtain of waist-length hair and a slim, athletic build, while
