He reached into his glove compartment and pulled out a small flashlight.

He did not draw his weapon, but his hand stayed close to his jacket pocket.

We stepped out into the cold rain.

My boots sank into the wet mud as we walked toward the porch.

The key was where Eleanor said it would be, hidden inside an old brass lantern hanging by the door.

My hands shook as I unlocked the deadbolt.

The door opened with a slow, heavy creak.

The air inside was musty and cold, smelling of pine wood and old paper.

Gabriel shone his flashlight around the living room.

The furniture was covered in white sheets, looking like ghosts in the dark.

“Where would she keep them?” Gabriel asked, his voice a low whisper.

“The study,” I said. “Upstairs.”

We walked up the wooden staircase, our footsteps echoing in the empty house.

The wind howled outside, rattling the windowpanes.

We reached the study at the end of the hall.

My mother’s desk stood in the center of the room, clean and bare.

I walked over to the built-in bookshelves lining the wall.