I. The Whisper The doctor had barely closed the heavy door to Exam Room 4 when he leaned toward me. I felt…
I. The Deadline The windshield wipers on Mason Reid’s aging Honda Civic beat an urgent, squeaking rhythm against a curtain of October…
I. The Splash The sound was sickening. It wasn’t a splash; it was a violent, drowning thud. It was the sound of…
I. The Invisible City The morning smog hung low over Sunset Boulevard, turning the rising California sun into a hazy, bruised peach.…
I. The Invisible Stain The Sterling Estate in Greenwich was a masterpiece of Georgian architecture. It sat on four acres of manicured…
I. The Glass Mausoleum The iron gates of the estate in Scarsdale swung open silently, triggered by the transponder in the armored…
I. The Drag The squeak of rubber against linoleum is a sound I associate with hospital corridors—the sound of urgency, of gurneys…
The reservation, made three months in advance, was to celebrate my father’s sixtieth birthday at L’Obsidienne, one of the most exclusive restaurants…
**I. The Glass Fortress** The Sterling Estate sat on a cliff overlooking the Atlantic Ocean in Newport, Rhode Island. It was…
I. The Hollow Victory The Gulfstream G650 touched down at O’Hare International Airport in absolute silence. It was 2:00 AM. Sebastian Hayes,…