LIANA'S POV
The living room was the only bright space in the dark house, and that was because the glow of the laptop lighted it up. I stood beside the couch on the edge with stiff shoulders, the torn section of the guest register sitting on my keyboard like a smoking gun. That page had become stuck in my head, rolling over endless questions without answers. I didn't even need to look at it to see it.
I had not touched my dinner, neither had I taken off my work clothes. My heels were half-kicked off, as I paced between the window and the coffee table.
The doorbell rang, and I startled. It was quite late for visitors and I really wasn't in the mood for any. I crept hesitantly to the door, cautiously, then looked through the peephole.
Standing on the front pouch is black a sweatshirt and
