EVENING had already settled when Charles’ car rolled to a stop in front of Amelia’s house.

The lights were on inside, warm and calm.

He sat behind the steering wheel for a moment, jaw tight, watching the curtains shift slightly from the breeze of an open window. No sign of urgency. No sign of a woman waiting for him.

‘She didn’t even tell me she was back.’

That thought burned again.

He stepped out of the car and shut the door a little harder than necessary. The sound echoed in the quiet street.

By the time he reached her door, his anger had rearranged itself into something controlled, something presentable....