She walked to the nearest trash bag, half-ready to tear into it just for the satisfaction, just to do something. But she didn’t. Not yet. She turned off the flashlight and stood in the dark, letting her eyes adjust. The air was cool and still. Above her, the barn creaked faintly, the trap door now out of sight.
Claire took one last look at the room. There was nothing remarkable here. No treasure. No secret messages. Just junk, piled high and damp. And yet, something tugged at her—something deeper than frustration. Why hide this? Why seal it with a trap door if it didn’t matter?