Parlor Trick
an excerpt

Everything was closed up tight for the winter, and it was so quiet in the house. Lily was two floors away, so Simon couldn't hear anything she might be doing. All he could hear was his own breathing and footsteps as he lifted heavy boxes, and the noisy rattle as he rolled a mop bucket out of the storeroom. Later, he couldn't quite pinpoint the moment he realized that he wasn't alone in the kitchen.
He straightened up away from the bucket and stiffened. Frozen in place, he held his breath. The room crackled with anticipation--it was suffocating him. He knew something was about to happen, and he knew it had nothing to do with Lily or the killer.
Afraid to move an inch, Simon waited. And then he felt it. Warm air on his face. Breath. He closed his eyes.
There was no sound to tell him what was happening, but somehow he knew that whoever had just breathed on him was walking around him in a circle, appraising him. Then he felt pressure against his left arm, as if someone leaned on him. A head laid on his shoulder, and another hand took his own. Tears leaked from beneath Simon's closed lids. The hand squeezed his, and they both sighed. Simon's sigh was full of guilt, regret, and apology. Mariah's was all forgiveness.
And then she was gone. The difference was so great that all the life and air felt as if it had been sucked out of the room. Simon had to sit. He sank onto the chair where he'd laid his coat and took a deep breath.