The Width of Glass

Mara Voss moved to Harwick Street to disappear. No connections, no history, no forwarding address. Just two suitcases, a lamp she carried herself, and the quiet relief of someone who has finally gotten out. She is done being found.Then the notes begin.Slipped under her door in the night, folded once, no name. Each one a warning. Each one exactly right. Someone knows which exit to avoid, which locksmith to stay away from, which dangers are circling her before she has seen them herself. Someone has been paying very close attention.Across the street, on the seventh floor of a pale stone building, Eliot Crane watches. He tells himself it is habit. He tells himself it is professional. He tells himself the notes are impersonal, practical, the responsible thing to do. He has been telling himself things for eleven days and he is already running out of things that are true.Because the man Mara left is not finished. And Eliot has read his file.What begins as a warning becomes something neither of them planned for, built slowly across a street and a window and a kitchen table, in the gaps between what is said and what is meant. Mara has spent her career reading what isn't written. Eliot has spent his career watching what isn't shown. Between them they are very good at seeing everything clearly.Everything, that is, except this.The Width of Glass is a slow burn psychological romance about protection and obsession, about the difference between being watched and being known, and about what it takes to trust that difference when someone has already used it against you.