"Andrew's on his way," he says flatly, all but glaring at me.
His eyes are steely-cold, his entire body tensed.
"I'm sorry," I sputter before I can help myself. "It's just... it's such a beautiful house, I just wanted to... I won't – I'm not – I don't think it's weird or anything that it's empty. I swear," I stammer, my foot fully in my mouth at this point. I curse myself, trying to explain. "I just wanted to... I should have asked. I'm sorry."
Harlan strikes me as just about the most private person on the face of the planet. And yet here I find myself, snooping around his home without permission, standing in a suspiciously empty room.
But why is it empty? And why is the house so devoid of personality? Suddenly, I find myself wondering how long he'd been working at the college. For all
