Beyond the penthouse windows, the city throbbed, glowed at night in the dark, but within Alexander Carter's apartment, silence. The kind of silence that folds over the waist and makes every little squeak, drips from the faucet, creaks through the boards to a disproportionate volume it has no right.

Amelia rolled and thrashed, staring up at the ceiling. She had tried all her usual methods for falling asleep: rolling onto her side, burrowing her head into the pillow, kicking off the blankets, ...