I climbed two steps, keeping my weight close to the wall so the pine treads wouldn’t creak under my socks.

On the little wooden table on the top landing lay a shiny silver spare key on a metal ring.

It was the spare to our front door, the one that had disappeared from my workshop drawer three months before.

Vanessa had told me I must have lost it under a heap of scrap oak in the shed.

I picked up the silver key and slid it into my pocket beside the folded hotel receipt.

The master bedroom door stood open two inches.