“Marco is checking the basement furnace right now.”

Ryker looked past me toward the living room, where Owen lay shivering under Clara’s coat.

Lily was still standing by the door frame, clutching her small hands together.

He knelt down beside her, his expression softening just a fraction.

“Hey, Lily,” he said, his voice surprisingly gentle.

She didn’t answer, but she didn’t run away either.

He reached out and lightly touched her cold shoulder.

“We have to be very quiet tonight, okay?”

She nodded once, her large eyes reflecting the yellow light of the dusty chandelier.

Ryker stood up and looked at me.

“We do not have much time, Evelyn,” he murmured.

“What happened in Chicago?” I asked, leading him into the small kitchen.

The kitchen was cold, smelling of old pine and damp wood.

I turned on the overhead light, which flickered twice before staying on.

“Hannah Brooks is looking for them,” Ryker said, leaning his hands on the laminate counter.

“She called the office twice before I left the city.”

“Did you tell her where we were going?” I asked.