The shadow of a man fell across the stained-glass window from the outside.

I backed away from the stained-glass window, my heel catching on the edge of the carpet.

The silhouette on the glass moved slowly.

It stopped at the side door of the chapel.

I gripped my phone tightly in my palm, my thumb hovering over Julian’s number.

The heavy brass handle of the side door began to turn with a slow, metallic scrape.

I held my breath as the door clicked open, letting in a draft of cold, wet air.

A man stepped into the dim entryway, shaking the water from his umbrella.

It was Julian.

He looked pale, his eyes scanning the empty pews before they landed on me.

“Evelyn, there is a black sedan idling down the street,” he said, his voice quiet.

“I know,” I replied, holding up my phone to show him the text message.

Julian walked over, his leather soles clicking on the stone floor.

He took the phone from my hand and read the words on the screen.

“It is Graham’s car,” Julian said, handing the phone back to me. “I recognize the plate.”