The safe house lay still in the pale aftermath of night. Dawn light leaked through the narrow kitchen window and fractured across the room, illuminating dust motes dancing slower than thought. Outside, wind stirred the bare branches of maple trees, tapping a soft Morse code against the glass, as though asking the same question Erica had been repeating in her head since before sunrise: Where is he?
She stood before the chipped porcelain sink, fingers curled around a mug of coffee gone tepid. The steam rose in thin tendrils, evaporating just short of her lips. Every breath brought the dull ache of exhaustion. She hadn’t slept,how could she?when Michael hadn’t come home?
Leo sat on the worn couch, tiny in the vast grayness of the room. His knees were tucked under his chin, his small hands c
