The engine of Ilya’s car hummed beneath the light rain that had begun to fall. City lights blurred across the windshield as they drove through increasingly empty streets. Ilya kept both hands firmly on the wheel. Marek Volkov sat in the passenger seat, silent, watching the road ahead. Daniel sat in the back, restless, his leg bouncing uncontrollably.

  —Tomás lives alone —Daniel said, breaking the silence—. His parents moved to another country years ago. He never talked much about them.

  —Which country? —Volkov asked without turning his head.

  —I’m not exactly sure. Eastern Europe, I think. He always said the house was his… that no one could tell him what to do there.

  Ilya glanced at Daniel through the rearview mirror.

  —Did Laura ever go to that house?

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  Daniel hesitated.

  —Once —he admitted—. She said it was uncomfortable. That Tomás knew too much about her.

  Volkov narrowed his eyes.

  —People who live alone learn to observe too much —he said—. And some confuse observation with the right to possess.

  The car turned onto a narrow street. The houses were old, separated by low fences and neglected gardens. Tomás Reiner’s house stood out because of its silence. No lights were on. The windows were covered by dark curtains.

  Ilya parked in front of the house.

  —This is it.

  The three of them stepped out of the car. The air was cold, heavy. Volkov walked ahead toward the front door. He stopped for a second, as if listening to something the others couldn’t hear.

  He knocked.

  Once.

  Twice.

  Nothing.

  He knocked again, harder.

  Silence answered.

  Ilya stepped closer.

  —No one’s home? —he whispered.

  Volkov studied the lock, the windows, the mailbox stuffed with unopened envelopes.

  —Either he doesn’t want to open the door —he replied—. Or he can’t.

  Daniel swallowed hard.

  —He was always home —he said—. Always.

  The three of them looked at each other.

  It wasn’t a look of surprise.

  It was one of uneasy certainty.

  Because some doors don’t stay closed

  to protect what’s outside,

  but to hide what was left inside.