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As soon as Tord unlocked the front door, he knew that something was wrong.
It wasn’t just the lack of noise that bothered him. The house being quiet was quite normal when Edd and Matt were out, as the house would settle into its usual empty-room hum without Matt talking just to hear himself or Edd camped out somewhere with a pencil in hand, paper spread around him. This was a different kind of quiet, the kind that pressed against your ears like the house had been holding its breath for days, waiting for something that never came. The air in the entryway was stale and warm and unmoving, and the downstairs hallway light was off even though it was the middle of the afternoon. At the end of the hall, the staircase rose into shadow.
Tord stood in the doorway with his duffel still on his shoulder, house key still warm between his fingers, as he let the quiet press against him while his brain ran through the math he did not want to be running.
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