The cold hit her the moment she cleared the door.
Hazel didn't stop moving. She kept her head down and her steps even, the way she always did when she needed to look like she belonged somewhere. Like she had a reason to be outside at this hour. Like her heart wasn't slamming against her ribs hard enough to bruise.
The grounds were quiet. That was good. That was fine.
She told herself that.
The east path was empty. The garden too. She cut through the side yard, past the hedges that hadn't been trimmed since the old groundskeeper retired, branches catching at her sleeve like fingers. She pulled free without slowing down.
Simon had to be out here.
He had to be.
She'd planned for this. She'd gone over it so many times in her head that it felt like memory — Simon in position, everything in place, Ava walking into exactly the scene Hazel had constructed for her. Clean. Controlled. Finished.
Except Simon wasn't where he was supposed to be.
