That was where the line had stayed open, catching every breath and every shift of the floorboards while Emily hid under her covers.

The child hadn’t been talking about some loose reptile or an animal that had wandered in from the yard.

She’d been talking about her father standing over her bed in the dark, his shadow stretched across the wall like something threatening that didn’t belong there.

María got slowly to her feet, her light slicing through the dust that hung in the stale air of the little room.

Out on the landing, Thomas shifted his boots against the baseboard, the leather creaking on the white paint.