The front door opened at 2:47 AM.
Bridget was in the kitchen, robe tied wrong, a glass of water in her hand that she hadn’t drunk from. She turned at the sound and froze.
Alex first. Backpack slung over one shoulder, hair messy, eyes red like he hadn’t slept. Then Troy right behind him, jaw set, coat still on like he’d come straight from somewhere else.
Bridget set the glass down too hard. “Alex. It’s nearly three. Where have you been?”
Alex stopped in the hallway. “I stayed at a friend’s. Lost track of time.”
Bridget’s eyes moved past him to Troy. “You went to get him?”
“He wasn’t answering his phone,” Troy said. His voice was flat, careful. “I got worried.”
Footsteps from the study. Silas appeared in the doorway, still in his dress shirt, sleeves rolled up, glasses on. He looked l
