I stepped inside with the cake box and called out before I even heard a response. “Lily? Honey, I got it!”
Nothing.
I moved deeper into the house. In the living room, Sarah sprawled on the couch with a glass of red wine, watching reality TV as if it were a job. Her son, Tyler, sat on the floor, controller in hand, volume blaring.
“Where’s Lily?” I asked.
Sarah didn’t even look at me. “Outside.”
My stomach tightened. “Outside where?”
“Patio,” she said dismissively. “She was coughing. I didn’t want Tyler to get sick. He has tryouts tomorrow.”
The cold I felt then wasn’t from the weather.
I crossed the house quickly and reached the sliding door to the patio. It was locked, the security bar wedged tight. Curtains drawn.
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