Chapter 3 What Our Fathers Buried

• He didn't move from the doorway. I didn't move from the bookshelf. For a second the only sound in the room was my own pulse, too loud, too fast, and the low hum of the house settling around us like it was holding its breath too.
• "How did you get in here," I said, and I didn't lower the letter opener.
• "The side door off the garden. It wasn't locked." Alaric's eyes hadn't left the photograph yet. "I should have knocked. I know that. I wasn't thinking clearly when I got here."