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)
“Is that right? Let’s see it.”
Aaron resumes his seat on the metal folding chair in the windowless room glowing with the fluorescents over his head. He has three large screens lined up in a half-circle on what looks to be a fold up table. There are two computers under the table and about a dozen wires are tangled around two extension cords plugged into a socket.
I glance at Nigella, raising an eyebrow.
She shrugs.
Aaron punches things into his keyboard and starts to explain his process as he does. I don’t give a fuck, but I don’t interrupt so he gets through it faster. A moment later, there are two side-by-side images on the center screen. The first is the one I’ve seen before, the unidentifiable man walking away from the camera in the garage. The other is that same man but clear. He’s wearing a black coat with a hood lined with fur pulled up over his head. The coat is long, which we knew, but now I can see his dark jeans and dirty sneakers more clearly.
“There.” I stop Aaron. “Go back. Zoom in on his hand.”
He does, moving the image backward then hits play. He zooms the picture in on his right hand and there, something anyone who didn’t know to look for it could overlook even on this clear image, is the gold of a ring on the man’s pinkie finger caught in the light of the blinking light in that garage.
“More. Zoom closer.”
Aaron does and I see it. I see the red glint of a ruby eye and the unmistakable point of the fox’s ear.
33
OPHELIA
Hamish texts Silas once we’re at the brownstone. The evening rain is turning into wet snow that will likely freeze overnight. I wish Silas were here.
I pour my dad and myself a glass of wine, and Dad sits at the kitchen counter.
“Are you hungry?” I ask. It’s close to dinnertime.
“Yeah, actually.”
“I’ll make us something.” I take out the makings for a simple pasta with red sauce for dinner. I’m very aware Hamish is seated on the living room couch. I think he might be taking this keeping me within sight at all times a little too far and decide I’ll talk to Silas about it tonight.
“What happens to the case now? They have that evidence to prove you were being blackmailed. Will that be enough for you to stay out of prison?”
“It’s pretty compelling, but there’s a lot of legal mumbo jumbo Higgins will need to sort through. Not to mention the arson case. I don’t think they’re just going to let me walk away but I’ll know more next week. Don’t worry about me, though, sweetheart. I’ll be fine.” His phone rings. “Speak of the devil.” He holds up a finger and stands to answer. “Yes, Higgins.”
I watch him mostly listen to what Higgins is saying on the other end and sip my wine. After a few minutes, he disconnects, tucks his phone into his pocket, and picks up his jacket from the back of the stool.
“I’m going to have to take a raincheck on that dinner. Higgins has some things he wants me to look over and it can’t wait.”
“Is it good things?”
“It sounds like it, but I won’t get my hopes up until I talk to him. Looks like your grandfather pulled some strings though.”
“Oh? See, he’s not so bad.”
“Not if he’s on your side, I suppose, which he is on yours.” Dad puts his coat on and hugs me. “It’s good to be out of prison and part of your life again, Phee. That was the hardest part, you know.”
“It’s good to have you back in my life, Dad. Dinner tomorrow night?”
“Sounds good.”
I walk him to the door, Hamish standing right behind me as I wave him off then close the front door. I turn to Hamish.
“I promise I’m not going to make a run for it.”
He smiles, puts his hands in the air, palms facing me. “Not taking any chances, Mrs. Cruz.”
I sigh. “You know what?” I say more to myself than him. “I think I’m going to go upstairs and have a bath and let Silas cook when he gets back.” I pick up my wine glass and my cell phone from the kitchen counter and head upstairs to the bathroom in the primary bedroom. I’d seen candles in the cabinet under the sink, and I take them out, setting them along the windowsill and on the edge of the tub. I run hot water then light the candles and switch off the overhead lamp.
Only then do I strip off my funeral clothes, pin my hair up, and slide into the still filling tub, closing my eyes, and laying my head back against the lip of it, the only sound that of water rushing as I soak away the day.