Aria took the stairs two at a time.
The upstairs sitting room had emptied toward the garden window the way rooms emptied toward accidents not because anyone had been invited, because looking felt like doing something. Zac was on his knees on the cushioned seat, glasses catching the last of the afternoon.
Zara stood beside him with one hand on his shoulder, not to comfort him, to keep him from leaning farther into the glass. Luca had put Maya behind him without being asked. Zoe was whispering a list of what she could see, which was how Zoe managed fear: she made it into inventory.
“Second big branch,” Zac said. He did not look away. “Dark jacket. The long piece is a lens, not a gun. I know the difference. Luca’s books have both.”
Aria pulled the heavy curtain across in one motion. The r
