She was looking at the envelope in her hand when she heard the sound again, that faint noise that had come from her mother’s throat before. She froze, her eyes locked on the envelope, and listened. That sound—a low, muted, metallic clicking—was definitely coming from Daphne. It went on and on, growing in volume, and Vera could place it now. She could place it, because it sounded just like the plastic-coated links of a bicycle chain sliding through an O-ring, rattling against a cement floor— She looked up at Daphne, and the noise cut off, leaving the room heavy with silence.
