“Her front door,” he repeated, like I’d literally asked the question out loud. “She said her place got broken into, but there was nothing wrong with it. I’ve seen places that got broken into, Luna; it didn’t look like anybody had fucked with her shit. The doorframe was intact. She had an alarm system, for fucking sake.” It took me a second to process his words. To think. But when it came down to it… he was right. There hadn’t been anything wrong with the front door. I had rung the doorbell. I had knocked on it. Banged on it. And she lived on the third floor. How would they have gotten in
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Riiight seeee
