Mason was already heading toward the front door.
“Stop.”
He turned.
“What?”
“Take Paisley into the kitchen.”
“Mom—”
“Now.”
Something in my voice made him obey.
I approached the door.
Through the frosted glass, I could make out the silhouette of a man.
Tall.
Broad shoulders.
A hat.
“Who is it?”
No answer.
Sadie stood halfway down the staircase gripping the railing.
The man knocked again.
“Mrs. Hale?”
My skin prickled.
Nobody called me Mrs. Hale.
Christopher and I shared his mother’s last name, Bennett.
At least, that was the name on our marriage certificate.
I opened the door two inches, keeping the chain fastened.
The man outside looked to be in his seventies.
Silver hair.
Weathered face.
