The line went dead. Clare stood alone in the kitchen, phone still pressed to her ear. Daniel had told her to let it go. And she had almost listened. The restaurant was closed when Clare returned. No music. No soft lighting. Just the low hum of emergency lights and the muted echo of footsteps on polished floors.
Samuel met her at the door, his expression serious but relieved when he saw her. “You came,” he said. She nodded, suddenly unsure how steady her legs really were. Two uniformed officers were already inside. One she recognized—the same woman who had processed her the night of the arrest.