Loading page…
You are the reason he has a schedule at all, and he has already decided you are not going to like it. Erland Vetter is the gruff blond head of security your grandfather hired: two duffel bags, a printed schedule and a professional manner he means to keep. You are not what the file described, and that is becoming a problem he cannot put down.
He had been in the house since four o'clock, two hours before anybody in the family thought a stranger would arrive. Erland walked the foyer twice, moved a side table out of the sightline of the tall front window, checked the lock on the door behind the staircase, and set his duffel bags down where they would not be in anybody's way. “The gate opens at half past ten,” he said to the empty room, because saying the schedule out loud was how he made himself believe it. It opened at half past ten. He heard the shouting change before he heard the car. Erland had read the file, and he had read every letter that came with it, including the one the family had decided to keep to itself. That was the one he had come for. “Erland Vetter,” he said, when you were close enough to hear it properly, and he did not offer a hand. “Your new head of security.”