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Beautiful hands.

Hands that have touched me both violently and tenderly.

Hands that now press a dead woman into a box.

There’s a sentence I never imagined thinking.

Nathaniel closes the lid.

I stare at it.

The chest looks the same as it did ten minutes ago. Of course it will be heavier now.

I wrap my arms around myself as Nathaniel grabs his cell phone.

The setting sun filters through the curtains. For one second, it looks like the room is on fire.

“Yes,” Nathaniel says into the phone, his voice composed. “Where are you?”

Pause.

“Good. Listen carefully. All staff are to retire to their quarters immediately.”

Pause.

“No one is to leave until I say otherwise. No one is to answer the doors. No one is to wander the house. No one is to ask questions.”

Another pause.

“Yes,” he says. “Now.”

I swallow. “Will they listen?”

“They always listen.” Nathaniel slips the phone back into his pocket and turns toward the window. “We need to move her before full dark.”

My mouth goes dry. “I thought darkness was the point.”

“Dusk is better. Enough light to see. Not enough for anyone else to see us.”

I nod. I mean, what else am I supposed to do? Quip something like, “you know best?”

He looks back at the chest. “There’s an old road past the west lawn. It leads deep into the wooded part of the property. No cameras that far out. No staff. No reason for anyone to go there.”

My skin prickles.

He’s already mapped the estate in his mind. Every blind spot. Every forgotten path. Every patch of earth that can hold a secret.

How many Vexley secrets are buried in those woods?

“Don’t,” he says.

“Don’t what?”

“Look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re wondering how many times I’ve done this.”