Page 79 of The Instruments of Darkness

There was nothing erotic or deliberately seductive about the gesture. She had the unselfconsciousness of a child.

“Did you make any progress?” she asked.

I elected not to tell her about Sabine Drew. No good could come of that. Neither did I wish to discuss the substance of my conversations with Delaney Duhamel or Steady Freddy. Colleen was Moxie’s client, and technically I was working for him, not her. If she had any questions about the conduct of the case or my associated investigation, she could direct them to him.

“Small steps,” I said. “And it’s early days.”

“You really don’t want to share anything with me, do you?”

“Everything should go through Moxie. It’ll avoid confusion.”

“And prevent me getting my hopes up for the wrong reasons?”

“When there’s more hope, Colleen, you’ll be the first to know.”

“I should go back to bed,” she said. “I only came downstairs because something woke me. After that, I didn’t care to return to my room.”

“What woke you?”

“A feeling, or just the wind in the trees. The world sounds different out here. The noises are unfamiliar. I stood at the bedroom window, and for a moment I was sure I could see a figure between the trees by the road, looking toward the house. Then the wind changed direction, the shadows moved, and it was gone.”

I thought of Moxie and the scratches on his lock.

“Was it a man or a woman?”

I kept my voice neutral.

“I couldn’t tell, and I might have been mistaken. Sorry, I didn’t mean to cause a fuss.”

“There’s no fuss,” I said, “and you absolutely did the right thing by mentioning it. This property has a security system in place. I deactivated sections of it because you were here and I didn’t want to make you feel like a prisoner, but any boundary breaches are automatically sent to my cell phone. You’re quite safe, and the Scarborough police are just minutes away. If you’re ever worried, and you can’t get hold of me, call them.”

“Won’t they tell people I’m staying here?”

“There’s always that chance, but this is only a short-term solution. In a few days, I’ll quietly drop you home. Your mom will be there, and we’ll keep the Fulcis in place for the time being, or as long as you want them to stay. One of them will be happy to go with you to the store, or a movie if you need the distraction, although I’d advise against the latter.”

“Because people might take it amiss if I’m seen at a movie theater.”

“Or a play, or attending a concert. If a photographer catches you laughing, it’ll be made to look bad.”

“I hate this.”

“I know, but attention fades. A time will come when you’ll notice people struggling to recall your face, but by then you’ll have moved on. Give it longer, and they won’t remember you at all.”

“What about Henry?” she asked. “Will they forget him as well?”

“We’ll do our best to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

She took a last look at her painted toenails.

“I think they already have, because none of this is about Henry, not anymore.”

She poured herself a glass of water to take to her room with her.

“Did you sing to your son?” I asked, as she was turning off the faucet.

“What?”

“Did you sing to him,” I repeated, “to lull him to sleep?”

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