In the Camden mansion, Rachel hovered nearby, wringing her hands until she forced herself to be still. She didn't want to look as panicked as she felt.
Mr. Camden lay propped against pillows, his once commanding frame now unnervingly frail. The rise and fall of his chest was steadier now, thanks to the the oxygen mask fitted to his face, but it was not enough to ease the knot of fear choking her.
Sandra stood near the opposite side of the bed, her arms crossed, her heels clicking once against the floor in sharp impatience. She hadn't said a word since brushing past Rachel earlier, but her silence was far from peaceful. It was heavy, simmering, like a storm that was gathering force.
