He reached out and touched my chin, tilting my face up until I had to meet his eyes.

“You must look the part of a Duncan bride, Clara.

And a Duncan bride does not dig through old graves.” Then he let go of my chin, picked up his briefcase, and walked out without another word.

I stood alone in the kitchen with my cold coffee, and I thought: he does not know that the grave is empty, and he does not know that I know.

He thinks he is warning me away from grief.