The scent of Sadie’s breakfast lingered, but Sadie was gone. Her kitchen sparkled in her absence. She made her way through nearly every room downstairs, but Tango was the only sign of life. The house was too big, she thought, wondering how her mother could have managed all alone for so long. It gave her the willies—especially since the death of the Jones girl, and the break-in afterward, connected or not, didn’t much help. Really, the only reason this house felt like home was the presence of family—her sisters and Sadie. When they were gone, it was a cold museum and the only thing that kept her from feeling downright unnerved at the moment was the simple fact that Tango had been lying on his back, sleeping peacefully until Caroline walked through the door. Now he was following at her heels, tail wagging happily. With Tango as her shadow, she made her way upstairs and found the attic stairs pulled down and the light in the attic on. She called out both Savannah’s and Augusta’s names.
