Next to it was Daniel’s SUV.

The lights inside the living room were on, casting a warm, deceptive glow onto the damp lawn.

I sat in the car for a moment, my hands gripping the steering wheel.

I reached into my bag and found my old key ring.

The brass key to the front door was cool against my skin.

I took a deep breath, stepped out of the car, and walked toward the house.

The wind was picking up, blowing cold wet leaves across the driveway.

I climbed the porch steps, my boots making soft thuds on the wood.

I did not knock.

I inserted the key into the lock.

It turned with a heavy click.

I pushed the door open.

The house smelled of stale lavender and expensive floor wax.

“Elizabeth?”

My brother’s voice came from the living room.

I walked in, keeping my hands inside my coat pockets.

Daniel was standing by the fireplace, a glass of water in his hand.

Uncle Michael sat in the armchair, his face lined with exhaustion and anger.

On the coffee table between them sat a thick, green paper folder.