Page 72 of The Villains We Make

“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?”

“Will do,” Nigella says.

“All right. Let’s go.” I set a hand at Ophelia’s lower back to walk her down the hall.

“What’s this?” she asks, noticing the duffel at the door.

I pick it up. “Just packed a few things for us for a couple of nights. We’re going to stay at the brownstone.”

“Why?”

“I don’t like that Ethan knows where we are.”

“Oh. Okay. That’s fine.”

We grab our coats and head out. I toss the duffel into the back of the SUV while Ophelia climbs into the passenger seat. Tires crunch on gravel, and soon we’re on the road back to Sinistral.

Ophelia is quiet and I reach over to squeeze her knee. “It’ll be fine.”

She smiles at me. “I know. It’s just weird, all of it.”

“How so?”

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