Through the cool marble of the foyer came the soft decisive click of the front door and there was a silence deeper than any sound Carson had left behind.
He left without turning around but the house seemed to hold its breath waiting for him to come back.
Every step was an escape as his leather shoes crunched on the driveway’s gravel.
It felt more like putting on armor than dressing when he shrugged the suit jacket onto his shoulders.
In his hand the briefcase swung loosely still weighed down by the unread merger proposal.
He crossed the large deserted lawn and sliced through the well-kept hedges. The world seemed subdued like a watercolor painting washed by the waning light of the late afternoon.
The chilly bars of the wrought-iron gates which he approached were a tangible represe
