Some of the broken glass had dark edges. There wasn’t enough light to call it red for sure. But it was red. He knew it. Drops—round, raised buttons of black that hinted at maroon—dotted the beige tiles.

Roy had set the rock he’d used to break the window on the very end of the armrest on the hall bench. Like the quarters on the curb. Centered. A precise call for help. It swept goose bumps over Jonathan’s arms.

The scrollwork decoration he’d hung to replace the Flinck had been hurled to the floor and lay in the rubble of its broken frame.

Roy had seen the video. Somehow he knew about the painting.

Jonathan called out again into the quiet house. “Let me rephrase that. You definitely want to come out and talk about this.”

He chewed the inside of his cheek.

“Goddammit, Roy! This will not go well for you if I have to come looking. Don’t make this worse.”

All the nothing that echoed into the dark was just what Jonathan needed. The dread evaporated. He’d tear the house apart looking for Roy, and it would be great practice for tearing Roy himself apart once he found him.

Neither turned out to be necessary. The hunt lasted two seconds. As Jonathan rounded the hall that led to the kitchen and the garage beyond, he stumbled over Roy’s outstretched legs. He lay sprawled across the floor where he’d slid down from his slump against the wall.

Roy had been in the family room. Jonathan knew this because the bottle of vodka leaning against Roy’s thigh had been in the bar cabinet next to the television.

He’d also been in Jonathan and Donna’s bedroom. Nobody in the family took any regular medicines, and the uncapped prescription bottle beside Roy on the floor was most likely Donna’s Xanax, which had been in the nightstand drawer for when she couldn’t sleep before flying or presentations.

The details of what he was looking at lined up on their own to make an awful kind of sense.

“Oh, God. What have you done?”

Roy raised his head as if he would respond, but it wobbled and flopped to the other side.

“Goddamn you, Roy.” Jonathan nudged him hard with his toe, but even that little release threatened an avalanche. He pulled back his leg and landed a hard kick into Roy’s bony hip.

Roy groaned and struggled up, but only made it as far as propping up on his elbows. He fell back, head thudding into the wall.

Jonathan itched to kick him again, but stepped over his legs and hit the light switch for the overheads in the hallway. He looked to see how much it lit the foyer. Not too bad.