Chapter 257 Tessa

• The library felt different at midnight. The shadows were longer, and the silence carried the weight of a decade of dust. Tessa didn’t need the lights on; the moon was a cold, bright eye looking through the glass. She was sitting on the floor by the fireplace, the small, hand-drawn sketch of the boy on the pier resting on her knee.
• The door didn't hiss open this time. It was already ajar. Roy walked in, his footsteps muffled by the heavy rug. He didn't have a glass of scotch or a phone. He looked like a man who had run out of distractions.
• "You’re sitting in the dark," he said. It wasn't a question.