I smoothed the collar with my thumb and draped it deliberately over the brass handle of the closet door.

A silent message. A ghost of a threat. I know you’re in there.

“I’m going to wait in the nursery,” I called toward the stairs, my voice echoing in the empty hall.

I didn’t wait for Damon’s response. The trap was set, but I needed to know exactly how deep the rabbit hole went before I burned the whole house down.

Inside the nursery, I lowered myself into the plush rocking chair beside the unfinished mahogany crib. The smell of fresh paint made my stomach turn. A minute later, I heard the bedroom door softly click shut.

Frantic, hushed whispers bled through the drywall. Then the faint, rapid sound of footsteps retreating down the back stairs. The side door opened and shut with a muted thud.