Two days had passed since Silver's whispered admission to Americus in the darkness of their dorm room—I'm worried too—and she'd spent every waking hour trying to avoid thinking about what those words meant. The fragile peace between roommates had held, but barely, like ice that looked solid until you tested your weight against it.
Snow slapped against the tall Gothic windows of Sterling Memorial Library with the fury of a nor'easter that had blown in from the Atlantic without warning, transforming New Haven from a picturesque college town into something that belonged more in a disaster movie. The wind moaned through the ancient stone buttresses and carved gargoyles like an organ played by invisible hands, creating harmonies that echoed through the vaulted reading rooms.
