This time, his gaze fell on the floor near the stove.

A small speck of white plaster dust lay on the dark wood, right where I had dropped the ledger.

He looked from the dust to the wooden plank behind the stove.

My stomach dropped.

“What is behind there, Kiera?” he asked softly.

“Nothing,” I said, my voice barely audible.

He started walking toward the stove, the iron poker dragging along the floor with a terrible screech.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said.

I looked at the back window again.

The shadow in the trees moved again, closer to the edge of the yard.

It was a tall, thin silhouette, standing perfectly still in the cold rain.

Arthur was out there, waiting.

I knew it was him.

Marcus was only three steps away from the stove now.

“I am going to ask you one last time,” Marcus said, raising the iron poker.

“Where is the package?”

I took a deep breath, my fingers reaching for the latch of the back window.

The cold air from the gap in the frame chilled my fingertips.