Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“I hate this,” she says. “I hate that they can just take you away like that.”
I draw back. “It’s okay. It’s over. Are you okay?”
“You’re asking me if I’m okay when you’re the one they dragged off in handcuffs.”
“Are you? Seeing Ethan couldn’t have been easy.” I hear the edge in my voice.
“It wasn’t.”
“How the fuck did he know where you were?”
“He said Wells told him.”
“I knew Wells was in their pocket. Fucking asshole.” I hold her at arm’s length. “Was Hamish here when he got here?”
She bites her lip. “Not yet.”
I clench my jaw and count to ten. “Why did you let him in?”
“If you’d seen him, you might have—”
“I can assure you, I would feel no differently about him. Why did you let him in the house, O?”
“His father was just murdered. And he looked like I’ve never seen him look before. His clothes, his shoes… He cried, Silas. I’ve never seen Ethan cry.”
“He’s a manipulative son of a bitch. I don’t trust him, and you shouldn’t either.”
She touches my face. “How are you? He was your father too.”
I glance to the window. “He was never a father to me.”
She turns me to face her. “How are you?”
I sit on the edge of the bed. Ophelia comes to sit beside me. I wonder if it was worth it. At the end, I mean. If when he looked at the gun pointed at his forehead, was it worth it? Living a life filled with hate, what did that feel like at the very end? I shake my head, scrub my face and look at her.
“I’m fine, sweetheart. Sullivan Fox can rot in hell. It’s where he belongs, however he got there.”
25
SILAS
I’m making coffee when Nigella lets herself in late in the afternoon the following day.
“You know you might want to knock,” I say as she walks into the kitchen and sets her briefcase down.
“It’s my house.”
“Just saying it for your sake. Don’t want to make you uncomfortable seeing something you won’t be able to unsee. We are newlyweds.” I wink.
“What makes you think I’d want to unsee it?” She slips off her coat and smiles wide.
“Well, then by all means. Come and go as you please. Coffee?” I hold up the pot.
“I’d kill for a cup.” She pulls out her laptop and sets it on the counter.
“What’s up?”
“Got the security footage and thought you’d want to see it,” she says as I walk around to set her coffee down and watch over her shoulder.
“Have you seen it yet?” I ask as she boots up her laptop. “Or let me guess, it broke down right after I left, which I call bullshit on if that’s the case.”
“Nope, working just fine.” She turns it so I can watch. “It’s pretty grainy but based on time of death, this is the guy. Sadly, only one half of him is visible and even that is a partial view and he’s facing away from the camera, of course. Whoever it was knew where the camera would be angled.”
I take the laptop and replay it to watch a man of similar build to me walking out of the parking garage. I can’t make out much of anything else though. He’s wearing a huge coat with the hood pulled up.
“That’s useless.”
“Yep.”
“Anything missing from the office?”
“Nope, nothing was taken. Not anything valuable of which there was plenty so rules out robbery. But hell, it’d be hard to get into the building and to Fox’s office to rob the man.”
“Robbery wasn’t the motive.”
“You said you left the contract on the desk?” she asks as she peers at the screen.
I nod. “He signed it then poured himself a drink.” I look at the screen over her shoulder as she scrolls through to the photo of his desk. I see the bottle of whiskey he was drinking. It’s almost empty. The fountain pen and the pad of paper I’d used to write our impromptu contract on are right there, but the sheet is gone.
“He might have put it away,” I say.
“Maybe.”
“What are you looking at?” Ophelia asks and we turn to find her in the entrance of the kitchen. She’s dressed in a charcoal sweater dress with knee-length suede boots and her hair falls in loose, wild curls down her back. She’s wearing mascara and lip gloss and holding her phone in her hand.
Nigella puts the lid down and waits for me to answer.
“Not much,” I say. “They sent over the security footage from Fox’s office and although it shows someone leaving the scene, it’s pretty grainy. Anyway, it doesn’t matter for us. Not right now. Time for the cops to do their job.”
Ophelia nods.
“Coffee?” I ask her.
“My father called.”
“Did he?”
“He’s at The Sinistral. He just met with my grandfather.”
“Well, that’s unexpected.”
“Exactly. I want to go.”
“Yeah, of course.” I turn to Nigella. “If you hear any developments, call me. And email me those photos, will you?”