Chapter 2
The west garden was dark except for the greenhouse lights.
Rafe followed me.
Nell came too.
Rosalind was kept inside.
Not locked away.
Watched.
Important distinction.
I reached the glass doors and heard Everett Pierce before I entered.
“Again.”
Then Clara’s small voice.
“I want to stay with Aunt Rosalind.”
My hands went cold.
Everett:
“And Daddy?”
Silence.
“Clara.”
“I love Daddy.”
“That isn’t the answer.”
I opened the door.
Every head turned.
Everett sat across from my daughter at a small garden table.
Beside him stood my cousin Vincent Hawthorne.
That surprised me more.
Vincent had held my right flank for eleven years.
Family.
Trusted.
Clara sat with a plate of untouched cake before her.
A small microphone rested on the table.
Recording.
Everett rose.
“Adrian.”
I ignored him.
I went directly to Clara.
She reached for me so quickly the chair nearly tipped.
I picked her up.
“Daddy.”
“I’ve got you.”
She buried her face against my neck.
Then whispered:
“I didn’t say it right.”
That sentence almost broke me.
“You don’t have to say anything right.”
Behind me Everett spoke.
“This is being misunderstood.”
I turned.
There was always someone eager to explain cruelty once discovered.
I looked at the microphone.
“What are you recording?”
Vincent answered.
“Nothing harmful.”
Wrong.
I picked up the device.
Six files.
Dates matching the last six dinners.
I played one.
Clara’s voice:
“Aunt Rosalind says Daddy needs a wife more than he needs a little girl.”
Everett’s voice followed:
“Try again.”
My vision narrowed.
I looked at him.
“Who told you to do this?”
He glanced toward Vincent.
Vincent looked away.
There.
Not just Pierce.
Hawthorne.
I stepped closer.
“Who?”
Vincent finally said:
“Your uncle.”
My father’s brother.
Sebastian Hawthorne.
May you like
The retired patriarch who had spent years telling me remarriage would “stabilize” the house.
Apparently he had already decided what stabilization required.
