Since then, Grace would set aside her favourite pastries, make her favourite Sunday night dish and, without really realising it, had gotten into the habit of calling her "my darling". She had found, in Katherine, the girl she had never had the chance to have.
That is why, when a cry split the silence of the night, his heart was frozen in his chest.
Behind the closed door, a chilling picture
Grace ran across the hall, barefoot on the cold tiled floor. Robert, her husband, followed her closely. In front of them: a closed door, and a heavy silence that had followed the scream.
She struck. Insistently. Again and again. No answer.
It was Robert who finally broke down the door with a vigorous blow of the shoulder.
