Chapter 42 The Room Without A Name

• Rain pelted the slate roof of the lakeside house, casting soft percussion against the high windows. Dorian stood to one side of the door, gun drawn, while Penelope monitored the screen that showed a solitary figure in the entry camera feed.
• A woman.
• Late sixties, perhaps older, draped in a floor-length charcoal coat and a grey lace veil that obscured her face. Her hands were gloved. Her presence is calm. Too calm.