The security guard’s booth was empty, the light inside casting a pale yellow glow onto the wet gravel.

We drove up the long, winding driveway, the headlights cutting through the heavy rain.

The historic stone facade of the Whitmore estate loomed ahead, dark and imposing against the night sky.

Only a few windows on the ground floor were lit.

The driver brought the SUV to a sudden stop in front of the main entrance.

Nathan did not wait for the driver to open his door.

He pushed it open and stepped out into the pouring rain.

I followed him, shielding Lily with the edge of my coat as we ran up the stone steps.

The massive oak front door was unlocked.

Nathan pushed it open, and we stepped into the grand foyer.

The air inside was cold, smelling of old wood and wax.

The crystal chandelier overhead was turned off, leaving the room in deep shadow.

“Richard?” Nathan called out, his voice echoing off the high ceilings.

There was no answer.

Only the sound of the rain drumming against the leaded glass windows.