Ally's POV

　　The air is heavy with an ominous silence as I rifle through the chest of drawers in Elliot's chamber, the scent of aged wood mingling with a hint of his cologne. My fingers brush against the soft fabric of Nathan's shirt, left carelessly behind. A shiver crawls up my spine, not from the chill in the room, but from the sudden realization that grips me.

　　"Elliot," I whisper, clutching the shirt to my chest, "they asked for his clothes, didn't they?" My ...