We started in the kitchen, working methodically from one corner to another. Not a cupboard, draw, jar or appliance was left unchecked. Each of us kept an eye on the other, almost like american cops covering one another. When Oak reached the doors under the sink, we were both startled as piles of carrier bags spilled out. He fell backward, almost loosing his footing. I stepped forward, mirror held at arm's length while he regained his balance.
“Anything?” he asked.
Looking closely, all I could see was bottles of bleach and disinfectant. I shook my head and we continued our search.
