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“Does he have a study?” I asked once I was sure the kitchen contained nothing more interesting than some tacky tea towels.

“Yes. Upstairs. First room on the right.”

I nodded and headed for the stairs, unsurprised when the first one creaked.

“There’s no one here,” Caligo said. “You don’t need to be quiet.”

Deep down, I knew that, but blundering around someone else’s house still didn’t sit right with me. The study was exactly where Caligo had described it. I started with the desk. It had three drawers, none of which contained anything interesting—just paperwork, mostly bills by the look of it.

“I found some rings.” Caligo called from another room.

I paused halfway through checking the bookcase, my stomach lurching. It took three tries before I could make myself speak. “Yeah? Men’s rings?”

“No. Women’s.”

“Where are you?”

“In the bedroom.”

For a moment, I seriously considered whether it would be better not to know. I could walk out of the study, go downstairs, leave the house, and just keep walking. I wasn’t sure which would be worse: discovering that none of them was my mother’s ring or finding out that one of them was. Of course, there was always the possibility that he had murdered her but sold the ring or disposed of it some other way because he knew it would implicate him.

My legs felt like lead as I went in search of Caligo. I found him standing in front of a chest of drawers with a narrow upper drawer pulled open. I kept my gaze on him, delaying when I’d have to look down for as long as I could. Eventually, I took a deep breath and lowered my eyes.

Caligo was right. They were women’s rings. None of them belonged to my mother, though. Hers had been a cluster of stones, whereas these were all much simpler. “Not hers,” I said, relief audible in my voice. The relief didn’t last long as the unmistakable sound of the front door opening filtered from downstairs.

I turned on Caligo as panic clawed through my chest. “You were supposed to stay downstairs and keep watch.”

“I wanted to help.”

“You would have helped more if—” I stopped myself. Haranguing Caligo would accomplish nothing. What was done was done. All that remained was to figure out how to deal with the plan having gone awry.

“I’ll intercept him,” Caligo announced.

I grabbed his arm. “No. Beating him up isn’t going to solve anything.”

“I don’t have to beat him up. There are other options.”

“You’re not killing him either.”

A familiar creak sounded from the stairs. I quickly closed the drawer and switched off the torch, leaving us standing in darkness.

“Hello? Is someone up there?”

I needed to hide. Or at least do something. “You need to go,” I whispered to Caligo. “You being here isn’t going to help in this scenario.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“You don’t have to leave me. You just have to stay out of sight.”

“You should know,” the man who was presumably Donald shouted, “that I’m calling the police.” There was a tremor in his voice that made it difficult to believe he could have murdered anyone. Rationality chose that moment to make itself known. This had never been the right way to handle things. I could have pretended to be interested in buying some art and at least met the man before invading his house like a bargain-basement Sherlock Holmes.

If he called the police, it would make everything ten times worse. Was there a chance I could talk him out of it? I took a deep breath and left the bedroom with my hands raised. “Please don’t do that. I’m not a threat.”

“You’re in my house. Of course, you’re a threat.”

He fumbled for his phone, his movements so jerky that he dropped it and had to bend down to retrieve it. A sheen of sweat coated his forehead. Wouldn’t a murderer have picked up some sort of weapon before confronting an intruder in his house? Unless he only killed women. Even then, his panicked demeanor didn’t quite fit.

I glanced over my shoulder to check that Caligo had disappeared, because if Donald was already this panicked, one glimpse of a seven-foot shadow monster would probably induce a heart attack.