“At first it was nothing much more than intuition telling Hazel that it was so. There was nothing to see: no broken glass, no jimmied woodwork. So far as she could determine, nothing had been taken; at first she wasn’t even aware that anything had been moved. Was there an unfamiliar smell in here, then? But no; only the increasingly homely signatures of dog, which is rather engagingly the smell of broken biscuits, and—somewhat less beguiling—teenager’s trainers. She tried to tell herself she was... imagining it. That the previous visitation had left her jumping at shadows. But somehow she knew better. “Absence of evidence,” she murmured to herself, quoting from a distant lecture, “is not evidence of absence.” And finally she spotted something that supported what the short hairs on the back of her neck had been trying to tell her: something that shouldn’t even have been in the sitting room, let alone displayed on the bookshelf as if it were a treasure. The ball Patience had brought home from the Clent Hills.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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