They were the couple everyone envied.
But Mrs. Higgins, with her sharp eyes and sharper tongue, had noticed something off. She’d seen Emily’s movements growing more erratic, her once-perfect smile fading. The once-vibrant woman had become a shadow of herself, and then, the house had grown quiet. No one had seen her in days.
And then, the anonymous call. It was more of a whisper than a tip—a warning to keep an eye on the Evans family.
Thorne stepped up to the front door, knocked three times, and waited. His hand tightened around the cold brass handle when the door creaked open, revealing Mark Evans. The picture of perfection—tall, well-dressed in a navy suit, with a calm demeanor that made Thorne want to take a closer look.
“Detective Thorne?” Mark’s voice was smooth, friendly, but a little too rehearsed. “Can I help you?”
