A fire was crackling in the hearth of a parlor to the right.

“It is beautiful,” I whispered, stepping inside.

“I had Mrs. Patel brought here earlier,” Dante said. “She is waiting in the guest suite upstairs.”

“Thank you,” I said, feeling a massive weight lift from my shoulders.

I walked toward the stairs, ready to put Lily down in a real crib.

Suddenly, a sharp, buzzing sound cut through the quiet house.

It was not my phone.

Dante reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek, black burner phone.

The screen illuminated his face in a harsh blue glow.

He stared at the flashing numbers, his jaw tightening immediately.

He did not answer it, but his fingers gripped the device tightly.

“Dante?” I asked, stopping on the third step of the staircase.

He looked up at me, his eyes dark with a sudden, tense gravity.

He slowly walked toward the window, looking out into the dark yard.

“Stay here,” Dante said, his voice dropping to a whisper.

He slid the phone into his pocket and walked back toward the heavy front door.