It took every ounce of determination not to flinch or back away from that inspection and to keep pretending to be cool-and-casual Trev. “Let’s all get back in, then? The party needs its guest of honor. Pretty sure it’s written in the big book of winning.”

Leanne came over to him and slipped her arms into the sleeves of the jacket he was holding. “Thanks, sweetheart. Pity about the pizza, but the birds will be happy.”

As Gladys moved past him, he got a chill that wouldn’t quit, and Trev was still shivering when Leanne urged him inside. The back hallway was dark and quiet, with only distant noise from the party upstairs. The old woman slowly made her way up the steps, leaving them in the yellow flicker of the fluorescent light. He had no idea what to say as Leanne stepped closer.

“You don’t understand,” she whispered. “And I can’t explain. Right now, you’re doing the one thing you can, the one thing that might save us both. Please, please carry on.”

The urgency in her low tone genuinely alarmed him. Trev drew in a breath and took a step, only to stumble. Leanne grabbed his arm, regarding him with a worried expression.

“Uh, right. Low blood sugar. I should get some food. Let’s rejoin the festivities.”

At the party, he did his best to act like he didn’t notice Gladys watching him like a hawk that was about to swoop down on a mouse. He argued with Leonard about the music, danced with Hazel Jeffords, and pretended for all he was worth. The celebration ran late, and Howard made a killing by choosing not to drink since he ended up accepting a ton of gigs driving people home through the rideshare app. Finally, the office emptied out, leaving him to tidy up while Leanne walked the stragglers out. Gladys was gone, finally, but he didn’t feel safe exactly. The old woman’s scrutiny left him feeling like she could still be watching or listening, which was weird as hell and a bit paranoid too.

“Are you ready to go home?” his wife asked, pausing in the doorway.

A hundred words hovered at the tip of his tongue, questions that demanded logical answers. Only he couldn’t even come up with a single theory that made sense. Role-play, cosplay, secret society? None of his half-baked ideas added up, and unease gnawed at him. Yet he still took the keys she handed him.

“You noticed that I didn’t drink?” he asked.

“I’m always paying attention to you,” she said with the smile that normally cut right through him.