The grocery store in Lower Falls was usually a place of mindless routine- the hum of the refrigeration units, the squeak of a rogue cart wheel, and the polite, hollow nods shared over the produce bins. But with twelve days left on the clock, every errand felt like a countdown. Briar stood in the cleaning aisle, staring at boxes of heavy-duty garbage bags. She needed them for the house to clear out the remaining construction debris and the plastic drop cloths that still smelled of the deep Jade paint.
She reached for a box, her fingers brushing the cardboard, when a scent hit her. It wasn't the sterile smell of lemon bleach or floor wax. It was expensive, cloying perfume- something with notes of jasmine and ice that didn't belong in a small-town supermarket at ten in the morning.
"Heav
