She stared into the darkness for a long moment.

She must have seen my shadow, or the outline of my coat.

But she didn’t call out to Mark.

She didn’t point toward the glass.

She simply turned her back to him and took a sip of her drink.

My phone vibrated in my pocket again.

I pulled it out with stiff fingers.

The screen glowed, illuminating my face in the dark.

It was another text from Mark.

*The waiver is still waiting. Don’t be stubborn, Claire. You can’t spend the night in the garden.*

I did not reply.

I walked away from the library windows, heading toward the back of the house.

The kitchen door was my best bet.

The old wooden door had a brass latch that sometimes failed to catch properly.

I navigated the narrow stone path through the rose garden.

The thorns clawed at my coat as I passed.

The air felt heavier now, thick with the moisture of coming snow.

I reached the back porch.

The kitchen windows were dark.

I stepped onto the wooden floorboards, trying to keep my weight even so they wouldn’t creak.