I drew my coat tight around my waist and walked toward the tall glass revolving doors at the main entrance.

Quick, heavy footsteps rang off the polished marble floor behind me.

Patrick reached me by the brass frame of the revolving door, seizing my right wrist before I could grab the outside handle.

“Where exactly do you think you’re going with those car keys?” Patrick demanded, his voice ringing under the high plaster ceiling of the foyer.

“I’m driving my car back to the house,” I said, touching the silver filigree locket at my neck with my left hand.

Patrick shoved his hand right into my open coat pocket and yanked my key ring out so suddenly that he ripped the thin lining of the pocket.