Thomas lingered a while in his own seat, looking up at the front doors leading into the Estate. His eyes were distant, remembering his own personal traumas that had occurred on this property. The Raiths owned a lot of homes in different locations, but Chicago had turned into the one constant over the last decade and a half. It was unusual for Thomas to remain put for so long, but he had reason to stay there.
Justine.
And Harry.
And his sisters.
Sure. Thomas grimaced to himself, unbuckled his seatbelt, and got out of the car. He stuffed the keys into his jeans--too tight to be able to fit his keys in the pocket comfortably to anyone else's eyes--and moved around the car to help Justine out. Which is to say he opened the door and stepped back, because he couldn't take her hand without hurting himself. He smiled at her, reassuringly. "Nope. Just you, me and some pets."