Without a Trace

Kelly 

The moment I stepped into my father’s hospital room, I exhaled a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. My heart was still hammering from the text, but at least here, inside these four walls, I felt relieved.  Or so I thought.  

But something was wrong. Very, very wrong. The room was too quiet. The sheets on the hospital bed were too smooth.  The machines that usually beep softly were off.  

My stomach twisted. My father was gone. 

I blinked, my breath catching in my throat. No, that’s not possible, he was here just now. 

I turned sharply, scanning the room. The IV stand was still...