Ethan stepped closer to me.
"Señora.
Whitaker, we should go.
We can regroup."
"Regroup,"
I said.
"With what?"
He was silent.
That was the answer.
I looked around the room one last time.
The sofa where Daniel used to read the newspaper.
The sideboard where Dr.
Vale had placed the bottle.
The windows where Lily had watched from the apartment over the garage, drawing what she saw.
And outside, past the glass, the black car that had been idling beyond the gate was gone.
Somewhere deep in the house, a clock struck the half hour.
Three-thirty.
I began to walk toward the front hall.
Reeves followed.
Ethan followed.
And as I passed the door to the study, something caught my eye on the floor near the baseboard.
A small square of paper, half-tucked under the rug.
Lily's drawing.
Torn down the middle.
Left there in the hurry.
I didn't reach for it.
