The first thing that surprised her was that the house was still strangely clean and tidy, not as she imagined, a messy place due to the lack of a woman’s touch.
Clara moved forward, gently placing the bags on the table. Then she saw him.
A pair of delicate, low-heeled women’s shoes leaning against the wall.
She froze. They weren’t hers. She knew it with a disquieting, almost physical certainty. She’d never worn low heels before. A thought crossed her mind:
