She found Liz’s door slightly ajar. A sliver of light cut across the dark hallway floor.

She pushed the door open with her fingertips.

The room was empty. Bed made — military corners, hospital tight. A single book lay facedown on the nightstand, pages splayed open.

But no Liz.

Natasha’s jaw tightened.

She took a bite of her apple. Chewed slowly. Her eyes swept the room once more, cataloguing. The window was cracked open. A faint breeze stirred the curtain.