Chapter 4: A Glass Decanter And A Phone
I didn't let go of Lily. Vic was standing just on the other side of the diamond glass, his hand still on the door handle, waiting for me to say the rest.
The late afternoon light cut through the arched doors in hard shapes across the rug. Dust hung in it. I could hear Lily's breathing against my neck, quick and wet, and I could feel Vic watching us both through the glass.
"Vic," I said, and my voice sounded even. "I need you to do me a favor."
He tilted his head. Still that easy, employed since Elena started bringing Lily by, that same half-smile he'd worn when he said 'Afternoon, boss.'
"Anything, boss."
I shifted Lily higher on my shoulder. My left hand, tattooed and watch heavy on the wrist, was flat on her back. She'd buried her face.
"There's a blue envelope in the glove box of the SUV," I said. "Hard stock. My lawyer left it there this morning. I need it before the courier comes. Go grab it for me and wait by the truck."
It was a lie. There was nothing in that glove box I needed. But it gave him a reason to step back and gave me a reason to keep the doors closed.
Vic hesitated for half a second. His eyes flicked down to Lily, then back to me. "Sure. Blue envelope. Got it."
He let go of the handle and turned back toward the driveway. Through the leaded glass I watched him walk to the black SUV, black suit blending in, pull the passenger door open. He started digging in the glove box. He stayed visible, framed in those diamond panes, shoulders hunched as he searched for something that wasn't there.
I turned away from the doors and carried Lily back toward the desk and the window. I tried to keep my steps slow. The wood paneling muffled everything except her breath and the soft tick of the watch against my wrist.
I knelt by the leather chair and sat her down sideways on my knee, so she could see the doors if she needed to but didn't have to stare at him.
"Hey," I whispered. "You're okay. You're safe in here. Nobody comes in unless I say."
She nodded, her ponytail slipping. Her white tights had a smudge on the knee. Her hands were clenched in the front of my black shirt.
I kept my voice low, barely over the hum of the lamp on the desk. "Lily, can you tell me about mommy? When did you see that man outside last?"
She swallowed. Her eyes were red and she wouldn't look at the doors now.
"He took my mommy," she said, in that same small voice from before. "Mommy said stay in the car. Then he talked loud. He pulled her."
My chest went tight. I breathed through it so she wouldn't feel it.
"Did you see where mommy went?" I asked.
She shook her head hard. "He drove. He left me. I walked."
Walked. From where? The county road was almost a mile to my gates, no sidewalk, just gravel and pine. A three-year-old walking alone should have been impossible, but there she was, white dress dirty at the hem, in my mansion study because she'd somehow found the only house with its gates open that afternoon.
I brushed the hair out of her face with my knuckles. "You were so brave to walk here. You did exactly right coming to find me."
She leaned into me again, her forehead against my collarbone. Over her head I glanced at the doors. Vic was still at the SUV, now leaning against the front fender, phone out, looking back toward the house. Waiting.
That's when my eye caught the desk.
The wood desk was two feet away, same as it had been all afternoon. Open book, glass decanter with amber still in it, and the spherical paperweight - heavy glass, used to hold down invoices. Only now the paperweight wasn't sitting flat on the blotter. It was tilted, propped up on something.
Something pink underneath it.
Elena's phone case.
I knew it because I'd seen it a dozen times when she picked Lily up from the kitchen door. Cheap pink silicone, cracked at the corner where Lily had dropped it last spring, a faded sticker of a strawberry half-peeled off the back. Elena never put that phone down. She'd said it was her lifeline, her checkbook, Lily's doctor numbers, everything.
It hadn't been there that morning. I'd sat at that desk at nine with coffee, signed checks, moved that paperweight myself.
I didn't move right away. Lily was heavy on my knee. Vic was still outside, visible through the glass, now squinting at the glove box again.
"Lily, honey," I said quietly, "is that mommy's phone?"
She looked where I was looking and her whole body stiffened.
"Mommy's phone," she whispered. "Mommy always has it."
I reached over with my right hand and lifted the glass paperweight. It was cold and heavy. Underneath, the pink case was wedged hard, as if someone had slid it there in a hurry and used the weight to hide it. I pulled it out. The screen was dark, spiderwebbed with cracks at the top, battery dead. It felt warm from the lamp light.
I slipped it into the inner pocket of my suit jacket, against my chest, the hard edge pressing through the shirt. My hand stayed there a second, holding it.
Through the arched doors, Vic pushed off the SUV and held up his empty hands, palms out, a question on his face. No envelope. He started walking back toward the doors.
May you like
I tightened my arm around Lily and stood, turning us both to face him, but I didn't move to open them. The diamond glass kept us apart. He was close enough now that I could see his expression shift when he realized I wasn't going to invite him back in.
He stopped on the top step, outside still, waiting to be let in.
