But the longer her phone stayed still, the thinner those excuses became. On Tuesday afternoon, she was dusting near the hallway when she noticed something out of place. A familiar leather satchel hanging on the coat rack. Lisa’s bag. The same one she carried everywhere, slung over her shoulder like a permanent fixture. Helen frowned. She hadn’t noticed it before.
For a long moment she stood there, unsure whether to touch it. It felt wrong to go through her daughter’s things. But it had been a week of silence. Surely, she reasoned, if it could tell her where they were, or if they were alright, that was reason enough. She unbuckled the clasp and opened it.