No tools required.
No storage containers or automotive equipment are allowed.
Instead of a living room, the garage had been transformed into a small relaxation area. A plush gray sofa sat next to a coffee table. A neatly made bed occupied one corner. A woman’s coat hung on a hook near the side entrance.
The shelves were covered with framed photographs.
I moved a little closer, my legs trembling.
Brian was in all the photos.
He had his arm around a dark-haired woman as they smiled on a beach, in a restaurant, and in front of a Christmas tree I had never seen before.
My hands were trembling.
“That’s not possible!” I shouted.
A pile of mail lay on a small table.
I took the first envelope.
