They stiffened. “Probably pipes expanding,” he offered. “It’s September,” she snapped. He fell silent. A cabinet door knocked once, decisively, then latched. Her tea sloshed onto the tablecloth. He dabbed it up quickly, determined not to surrender composure. Pride demanded homeowners explain things, even ones they had recently stolen.
She checked her reflection in the hallway mirror and gasped. For a heartbeat, a second shape hovered behind her shoulder. When she blinked, gone. “I saw—” she began. “No,” he interrupted firmly, voice louder than necessary. “No, you didn’t.” His hand trembled as he reset the light switch.