Page 23 of Visions in Blood
Devon barked out a laugh.“Veronica sounds like she doesn’t hold anything back.”
“No, sir.It was difficult to get her back on track after that.”
“So, we have a general description.Do we have a name?”
“Just a first name—Rasmussen.”
“That’s not much to go on.And that’s assuming he’s truly Cressa’s father.”
“That’s where things got interesting.When I gave the time period of Cressa’s birth, Veronica insisted I had my information incorrect.When I told her it was on a birth certificate, she said she didn’t care.Maybe Willa had a second child, but she remembered the name Cressa and that she was born the month after her own daughter was born.She was adamant that they’d shared baby clothes and accessories because they were both on a pretty tight budget.When Cressa was about six months old, Willa and Rasmussen had a huge fight, and Veronica never saw him again.A few months later, Willa moved.”
“The birth certificate was forged?”
“I’m having that checked now.But this woman has no reason to lie.”
“When was Cressa born?”
“Two years to the date earlier than what the birth records show.”
“Willa was covering her trail?”
Sergi shrugged.“Maybe.”
“Good work.”
“It’s not enough.”
“No.But maybe Cressa can get us closer.Were you able to retrieve the necklace from Lyra?”
“Not without negotiation.”Sergi fished the necklace out of his shirt pocket and laid it on the desk.
He snorted.“What did she ask for this time?”
“More time out of her room.If you don’t need me, I thought I might take her to Oasis for the day.”
Devon considered it.The staff at Oasis knew Lyra and her special needs, though Devon preferred to go with her.But if he was honest about it, chaperoning her was more an opportunity for him to make one of his rare visits to his true home.Until he found a way to remove his censure, it was imperative he kept Oasis a secret from anyone other than his family and a short list of trusted partners.
It was tempting to go, but he trusted Sergi and the rest of his guards to care for Lyra.“The day is half over.See if Marta minds watching her overnight.She can come home tomorrow.”
“Is she well enough for that?”
“I think so.I’ll speak with her before you leave.I need time with Cressa.”
A knock at the door preceded it opening, and Simone peered in, a twitch to her lips.“I’m sorry to disturb you, but I understood this was a rush order.”The Somalian beauty didn’t appear sorry, and with barely a nod from him, strolled in, her lavender caftan flowing about her legs, a man in his twenties trailing behind her.
Unable to stayin bed after Devon left, I’d taken a shower, feeling better than I had in days.The pink tonic seemed to have given me a boost as well as diminish the headache.I slipped on my sneakers and ran hands through my damp hair before glancing around for a sweater.When I stepped next to the dresser, my hand went to my neck.My necklace.I’d reached for it as if it was something I’d put on every day, yet it had been years since I’d worn it daily.I remembered putting it on last night.
The hot flash of a headache hit me, then it was gone just as quickly.The dream.I rubbed my forehead.Bits and pieces of the evening returned—my eagerness to see Devon, the exotic smells and textures that felt foreign yet unforgettable, and then the deep, burning, ravenous need to claim him.Even alone in my room, my cheeks burned with shame.The last thing I remembered was the return of impenetrable darkness.
I rubbed my arms to chase the chill away.When I clutched at my chest again, still barren of the necklace, I knew without a doubt, as sure as I knew Christopher was an asshole, that the necklace had somehow affected the dream.And not in a good way.I checked the jewelry box, the pants I’d worn to town the previous day, and every inch of carpet.
No necklace.
From what Lucas said, Devon had been in my room all night until I woke.My irritation flared at his audacity of taking my necklace without asking.I told him I’d let him look at it.
Forgetting the sweater and my promise to stay in my room, I marched down the stairs and stormed through the mansion.This time of day, if he was home, he’d be in his office, but it didn’t hurt to check out the other rooms, giving the anger time to cool.Nothing good ever came of confronting him in rage; he tended to toss it right back at me.
When I reached his office, I should have slowed and taken a breath—my irritation still roiling and making me jumpy.His policy about walking in unannounced when his door was closed was a major beef with him.He valued his privacy.Well, so did I, and when he took my necklace, he broke his own privacy rule.So, tit for tat as they say.
