Her Father’s Murderer

There were no other buildings in sight. Kira was led through a security gate, past a yard filled with overgrown evergreen shrubs. She heard no city noises here, no snarl of traffic or chattering of pedestrians. This must be the suburbs. She stepped through the open front door. The living room was spacious and well-appointed. The wood furniture was polished to a glossy shine. Objects d’art were arranged artistically. Before she could finish taking stock of the house, she was led into a room upstairs. It was a big bedroom with a small sitting area in the front. The door clicked shut behind her. Kira was left alone. She tried the doorknob. It didn’t turn. The door was locked from the outside. The windows were shut and bolted down tight. Kira could see into the backyard, devoid of vegetation and activity. The room was fully furnished but gave no clue as to its owner’s identity. Kira waited and waited, her patience wearing thin. She searched the nightstand and the en suite bathroom, and fou