Zane went still for a moment, his right hand hanging over the open leather compartment of his briefcase.

He cleared his throat loudly, the rough sound grating against the silence.

“If you bring up those five words in this house again,” Zane said, his voice low and cold, “you’ll destroy whatever’s left of that boy’s mind.”

He reached into the closet, yanked his heavy brown winter coat off its hanger and threw it over the foot of the bed.

The inside lining swung hard against the wood and made a thick metal clink on the footboard.