Nora moved aside so Kant could join her in the doorway. He’d showered and changed into clean clothes, like her, but he looked bone weary. She didn’t think he’d had any rest since she’d last seen him.

“I thought you’d be asleep,” she said.

“Can’t.” He ran his fingers through shaggy hair, then said, “What were you needing?”

She bit her lip. She’d promised she wouldn’t involve him any further. But she needed to know more about the estate, and Kant had lived there longer than anyone.

“I don’t need people walking on eggshells around me,” Kant said, a hint of roughness to his voice. “What’s brought you out here?”

Margot raised the book. “I found something in the house. And I need to know more about its history. About the curse. Records, photos, dates.”

Nora glanced up at Kant, fidgeting at the door’s edge. “It gets worse when we talk about it…”

“I think I figured something out,” Margot said. “And…it might help. I hope.”

Nora met Margot’s gaze, a crease running between her eyebrows, then took a slow, deep breath. “Right then. We’ll want to go down to the store. It has a lot of the old photos. It’ll give Ray some peace too.”

“Mm.” Kant reached for his sweater, which he slung around his shoulders. He shut the door behind himself as he joined them on the drive.

“Are you sure you want to come?” Margot asked him. “You should get some rest—”

“You sound just like Andrew,” he said, sighing, and fell into pace next to her.

Margot kept one eye on the sun’s angle as they walked. It was lower than she would have liked. There were still a few hours to go until dusk, but that felt like an uncomfortably narrow margin to play with.

The sign on the store’s front door read Closed, but Nora pulled a set of keys out of her pocket and slipped them into the lock. Lights flickered on overhead as she turned switches.

“Right,” she said, setting the keys down on the counter and indicating the stools. “I’m at your disposal.”

Kant took a seat, resting one arm on the wood, while Margot gently laid out the journal. “I found this in the attic a few days ago. And I finished reading it today. I’m almost certain it belonged to Ezra Hull’s youngest daughter.”