"Who was that, Honey?" Jose called from the living room, not looking up from the phone but listening intently.

Julie, standing by the now-closed front door, took a breath so subtle he almost missed it.

"No one," she replied, her voice smooth, almost too smooth. "Just someone at the wrong address."

Jose grunted an "Okay," feigning disinterest, but his mind was sharp, cataloging every detail: the swiftness of her door closing, the almost imperceptible pause before her answer, the chilling ...