“Smart,” I murmured, scanning the bare walls as I walked farther into the house.
Adam pulled out his cell phone. A few seconds later, the screen lit up with harsh white light, casting a glow along the floors and walls. We passed what looked like a living room. A couch draped in a light-colored canvas was the only thing remaining in the room. The kitchen was odd, though. A table sat in the corner of the room, covered in a thick layer of dust.
“Is this normal?” Adam asked, gesturing at the counters. Kitchen appliances were still in their designated spaces. A toaster sat next to a coffeemaker, and both had obviously been sitting untouched since the Williamses moved away. “Do people just leave stuff behind?”
I raised a shoulder. “Who knows? Maybe they didn’t need it.”
“Or they were in a hurry,” Adam supplied.
In a hurry for what? To get away from all reminders of their missing, presumed dead daughter? Or something else? God. We would probably never know.
From the kitchen, we headed upstairs. Our footsteps echoed in the otherwise silent house. We found Bethany’s room pretty easily. From what I remembered, she liked to paint, and there was a nice-sized room with an easel by a dirtied window. There were papers on a small desk, mostly assignments from school. An odd pang hit me in the chest when I saw the neat stack of books in a corner. It reminded me of Kat.
This could be her.
One day, someone could be walking through her room, looking for evidence of what happened to her. Shit. That hit me hard, a fist to the lungs and stomach. Made me want to turn around, find Kat, and keep her…keep her safe somewhere, and that had nothing to do with us being connected. And the punch of panic was far too strong for someone who was just physically attracted to another person.
But I already knew that what I was feeling for Kat dug in far deeper than lust.
Adam opened a closet door, revealing that it hadn’t been packed up. Clothing hung from hangers. Jeans were stacked on a shelf. Shoes scattered the inside. “You know,” he said, stepping aside as he looked over his shoulder at me, “I think this is kind of weird.”
“Same here.” I had no idea if her parents had owned this house or rented it. Either way, it didn’t seem normal that this much stuff was left behind.
I riffled through the papers, finding nothing of interest. The same with her closet. What was I really expecting? A list of people Bethany might’ve confided in? Like life was that easy.
Adam roamed out of the room, and a few moments later he returned, his expression unreadable. “I think I found something interesting.”
Following him down the hall, we entered a smaller bedroom. Like the rest of the house, personal items were scattered about, along with dusty furniture. Adam walked over to an open closet and picked up what looked like a shoe box off the floor. He sat it on the stripped-down bed. “If I remember correctly, Beth lived here with her parents and a younger brother. Her dad worked in Virginia somewhere.”
I nodded, knowing this.
“And I’m pretty sure neither of her parents was a doctor. I remember Dawson telling me once what they did, but hell if I can remember exactly now, but I know neither of them was a doctor.” He gestured at the box. “Which is why I find it strange there’s a shoe box with a stethoscope and a blank prescription pad from the hospital.”
Walking over to the box, I picked up the pad. With the light from Adam’s phone, I saw that was indeed a prescription pad from the local hospital. “These cannot be easy to get ahold of nowadays, not if you don’t actually work at the hospital.”
“Exactly.” Adam moved the phone back to the box, shining the light on the stethoscope. He picked it up, running his thumb along the metal part. “Something was either scratched into the metal or engraved, but you can’t make it out.”
I caught it when he tossed it over, and he was right, the markings were ilegible. I dropped it back in the box, frowning. When I walked to the closet, I saw a couple of plain white men’s shirts lying on the floor.
“No one in her family was a doctor or worked at the hospital?” I asked.
“Not that I know of. I mean, at least not her immediate family, but it looks like someone else lived here with them.” Adam sighed. “The thing is, none of this could mean a damn thing.”
Bending at the knees, I nodded again. “I know.” I swept the shirts aside, feeling something under them. “Hey, bring the light over here.”
A second later, white light shone down on what was under the forgotten shirts. My brows lifted. Several unused bundles of gauze sat atop a bedpan, and I spotted a cane in the corner of the closet. A walker was folded up, resting against the back wall. Next to the bedpan was a pack of unused plastic cups with lids and an unopened six-pack of Ensure.
“Someone was either very old or very sick,” Adam commented.