Chapter 24
The night pressed heavily against the Ford estate, the silence inside broken only by the faint tick of the grandfather clock in the hall. Bruce sat alone in his study, the lamp burning low, his head cradled in his hands. Papers lay scattered across the desk, contracts and projections blurred by the haze of drink. His eyes burned from lack of sleep, but even exhaustion could not quiet his mind.
He had tried, again and again, to make sense of the messages. For weeks, they had eaten at him, gnawed at the edges of reason. But tonight felt different. Something in the air carried a weight he could not shake.
The phone lay on the desk in front of him, its black screen like an eye waiting to open. He had almost managed to forget it for a moment when the chime came, sharp in the quiet
