I could feel his forearm tense under my hand. “Except that we do.”

From her position at the bottom of the staircase, Saylor watched the two of us. Anyone observing would’ve thought she was making sure we were moving at the right pace while using the appropriate posture. But I knew better.

So when David turned to me again once we were done, I hurried off to the little powder room off the main foyer.

Like everything else in Magnolia House, it was done all in shades of burgundy and green. A tiny wicker table by the door held a basket of scented lotions and a small bowl of potpourri, and there were tiny framed pictures of Magnolia House throughout the years on the walls. It wasn’t actually an antebellum house—they’d built the place in the thirties—but it was still a pretty exact replica of the big places that had once filled Pine Grove. They even kept antique furniture in the bedrooms upstairs.

I was studying one of the pictures when I realized what else was covering the walls—dark green wallpaper with a familiar pattern. My vision swam with skinny golden figure eights. My hands started shaking as I turned on the little gold faucet shaped like a swan. I splashed my face with cold water and was taking a deep breath when the door suddenly opened and David was standing there.

He went to shut the door, but I pushed past him before he could. Or at least I tried to. Even though my hands only shoved against the air half a foot from him, David still got out of the way, letting me into the hallway.

“No more skulking,” I hissed, shooting a glance back at the main foyer. This corridor was nearly blocked by the main staircase, so David and I were partially hidden. “We don’t have anything to talk about. Not anymore.”

David made a move toward me. I thought he was going to grab my arm, but then he seemed to think better of it. “I need to talk to someone about this,” he said, and there was almost something pleading in his voice.

Since I’d never heard David Stark plead for anything ever, I hesitated. Then I remembered how desperate I’d been to tell someone, anyone, about what had happened with Dr. DuPont.

So I stepped back a little farther into the shadows. “What is it?”

Sighing, David tugged at his hair before reaching into the pocket of his jeans. “This.” He handed me a crumpled piece of paper, and I saw that it was an e-mail.

“This is the third one of these I’ve gotten this month.”

From the foyer, I could hear Saylor announcing the next rehearsal, and I knew I didn’t have much longer before I’d be missed. As quickly as I could, I scanned the e-mail.