The hour passed slower than any hour Elena could remember. She sat in the study with the phone in her lap, watching the clock on the wall tick past nine, then nine thirty, her mind running through every possible version of what might be happening across the city.
At fifty-eight minutes, headlights swept across the driveway.
Elena was at the front door before Helen could reach it, watching the car pull up, watching Alexander get out on his own two feet, no wheelchair, no glasses, moving fast toward the house with an expression Elena couldn't read from a distance.
"You're back," she said, relief flooding through her. "What happened. What did he want."
Alexander didn't answer until they were inside, the door closed behind them, until they were back in the study with Helen posted near the
