The door opened, and I saw Julian Hart.
He was taller than I expected, with dark blond hair and a calm, open face. He wore a navy sweater over a white shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. A faint streak of flour marked one cheek.
His eyes moved from me to Marcus, then back again.
Recognition came slowly.
“You’re Adrian,” he said.
Not a question.
I nodded.
Julian stepped outside and closed the door behind him.
The gesture was polite, but careful.
“Evelyn knows you’re here?”
“No.”
“Then you shouldn’t have come.”
“I know.”
That answer seemed to surprise him.
He folded his arms. “What do you want?”
“To speak with her.”
“She doesn’t want contact with you.”
The words struck harder than I expected.
“Did she say that?”
“She said she wanted to be left alone.”
“Three years ago?”
“Repeatedly.”
I looked beyond him toward the warm light under the door.
