The door is locked so Lye goes in through the broken window. Miranda’s shoes, still in their cubby. Miranda’s glasses, still on the windowsill.
He pauses when a key turns in the locked door.
Two orderlies enter.
One unrolls plastic sheeting and holds against the window. “The way he just stares up at the house.”
The second tapes it in place. “Someone should tell Dr. Smith.”
The first snorts. “That the neighbor’s weird? Hiram would probably hire him to get ‘some real local flavor.”
Lye slips out the open door.
“Ha! Like someone from White Haven would ever work here.”