“We must go tonight.”

I stood up with him, my hands still cold.

“I have the key to the side door,” I said.

“My grandmother gave it to me when I was twenty.”

“She told me to keep it safe, in case I ever needed to get into the house without Marjorie knowing.”

Julian nodded, picking up his briefcase.

“Let’s get to the car,” he said.

We walked quickly down the aisle, the damp air of the chapel clinging to my skin.

As we reached the heavy oak doors, Julian’s phone lit up again in his hand.

He stopped, his thumb hovering over the screen.

“What is it?” I asked, my heart skipping a beat.

Julian turned the screen toward me.

It was a text message from an unknown number.

The message was brief.

*She’s waiting for you at the house.*

“Who sent that?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper in the quiet vestibule.

Julian stared at the screen, his jaw set in a hard line.

“It is a burner number,” he said. “There is no name attached.”

“Could it be Graham?”