“We're going to start upstairs,” I called, “We've got our mirrors.”
Oak appeared in the kitchen door. “Be careful,” he warned, “and check everywhere.”
“Roger,” said Mary, and we started upstairs.
We did the bathroom first, feeling a bit foolish but making as much noise as we could. From there it was into the back bedroom, again making a racket. Mary quickly opened the wardrobe and gasped.
Peering over her shoulder, I saw Fiona's unconscious body curled up, her head resting on an old hat.
Mary slammed the door shut and turned, putting her back to the door.
