When I get to the wall of books, I see a glass with its remnant of amber liquid beside a book on the small table. The book itself is open and lying facedown.

I sit on the chair, and when I do, I see the pencil that must have rolled to the floor. I pick it up without even thinking and set it beside the book.

Santiago must have sat in this chair while drinking his drink.

I set my candle down and pick up the glass to inhale. Scotch. My dad had it for company at home. I bring the glass to my lips, and I’m not even sure why I do this. I’m not really thinking, and if I were, I couldn’t make sense of it. But I put my lips to the glass, and I drink the last sip of his scotch.

As the liquid burns its way down my throat, I close my eyes and lean my head against the back of the chair. Leather combines with the scent of scotch and him. Keeping my eyes closed, I inhale, aware of the shudder that makes its way down my spine. I know it’s not the scotch. It doesn’t work that fast.

I open my eyes and set the glass down, then touch the tips of my fingers to the leather spine of the book. No title. The leather looks and feels ancient. The tome is thick and probably shouldn’t be laid facedown and open like he’s got it. It’ll damage the binding.

Picking it up, I turn it over and peer at the page. But it’s not words at all that I see. It’s a drawing that takes up the whole of the page. A skull.

I turn the page and find detailed black and white drawings on the next one. This one is a woman. She’s beautiful. Older with dark hair and sad eyes and a veil that hides part of her face. I study it, something about how she seems to be peering out at me so intriguing I can’t look away.

I’m so caught up in it that it’s not until I hear the key turn that I realize I’m caught. I stand, hitting my knee into the table and sending the candle to the floor. I gasp as I watch melted wax spill into the fibers of the carpet before whirling to look at who has caught me, knowing there’s only one person, and meeting my husband’s dark eyes as they land dangerously on mine.

26

Santiago