hadn’t explained where she was going.
All she’d left behind was a brief note.
Don’t overreact. I’ll fix everything.
I drove back to Rochester.
Mom was standing by the kitchen window when I arrived.
Dad sat at the table, staring at a newspaper he hadn’t turned a page of.
Neither seemed to know what to say.
While helping my mother organize some things near the hallway, I noticed a small metal key she’d found among Khloe’s belongings.
Attached was a faded plastic tag.
Maplewood Storage — Unit 312.
There was also a business card for Art Connect LLC.
I held them for a moment.
Something about the connection troubled me.
Later, I spoke with my friend Ethan, who had experience reviewing business records.
Together, we began examining the documents we’d collected.
The more we looked, the worse things appeared.
Art Connect wasn’t the established creative company Khloe had described.
Its promotional
