The house was cold, the stone floor beneath my slippers holding the chill of the midnight air.

The study door at the end of the gallery was open an inch, casting a narrow strip of yellow light across the dark hardwood floor.

I approached quietly and heard no sound of typing or rustling paper from inside the room.

Daniel was asleep on the dark green leather sofa against the back wall, his head resting at an awkward angle against the carved wooden armrest.

His suit jacket was draped over the back of a chair, his tie loosened at his collar.