Her heels touched down and she hesitated just one moment longer before pushing herself into it. Barefoot on the cold floor, she padded around the corner and into the dark of the kitchen, its wooden blinds drawn against the morning. It was laid out like a fancy open-back restaurant, with one marble countertop against the wall and a parallel island in the middle of the room. It was expensive-looking but oddly unadorned, like a lot of this house seemed to be. No knife block sitting out anywhere--though she did see the blender he'd used to make Katie's bland, disgusting food--but there were plenty of drawers.

Emma felt stupid for a...