He did not offer to shake hands, nor did he ask to sit.

He simply leaned against the wooden partition of our booth, casting a long shadow over our plates.

“Your husband is a very thorough man, Mrs. Vance,” Miller said.

Rose shrank back into the vinyl corner, her fingers curling into her damp wool gloves.

“What do you want?” I asked, trying to keep my voice from trembling.

“Richard hired me to keep an eye on things,” Miller said, looking between Rose and me. “Specifically, to make sure certain arrangements remained undisturbed.”

“Arrangements?” I repeated.

“He knows you’re here,” Miller said flatly.

A cold dread settled deep in my stomach.

“He doesn’t want you digging into the past,” Miller continued. “He asked me to give you a friendly warning.”

“A warning about what?” I asked, my voice rising slightly.

The waitress looked over from the counter, but Miller didn’t seem to care.

“Some stones are better left unturned,” Miller said. “You have a nice life. You have a beautiful daughter. Richard wants to keep it that way.”

“Is that a threat?” I asked.