Arthur had picked up my purse that afternoon, offering to hang up my coat while I rested in the guest room.

He’d taken the spare deadbolt key out of my leather wallet while I stood in the hall in my black dress.

Julian turned the red-tagged key in the master bedroom lock with a quick, practiced flick of the wrist.

“Just setting up the second workstation,” Julian called back over his shoulder, stepping in without a glance at me.

“What lock does that red key open?” I asked, my voice staying completely flat.

Julian stopped in the doorway, his hand still on the polished brass knob.