Page 13 of Thief of Night
“Charlie Hall,” Adeline said in her soft, cultured voice, with just a touch of little-girl breathiness. “Finally. I need to see you. And Red.”
“I don’t know,” Charlie said. “Maybe he’ll be too busy giving a press conference. How many reporters did you contact?”
“I wanted to motivate you to return my calls,” Adeline told her, as though her response had been perfectly logical. “I could pay you for your time, you know.”
Adeline had inherited a large chunk of Salt’s fortune. The amount had been in the paper—a staggering number, in the neighborhood of $400million. She could certainly afford to bribe Charlie, who currently didn’t even have a working, legally registered vehicle.
“I don’t want your money,” Charlie said.
Adeline gave a little laugh, as though that was an obvious lie. “Red needs to plan his return to the world, and Trevor would be a good first interview. He’s a friend. He’d be patient with Red. We’d practice first, of course. We can talk about it more when you bring him by on Saturday.”
“If you want to see him, you know where I live.” After all, a few weeks after Salt’s death, Adeline sent over two closets’ worth of Remy’s clothing, all of it ridiculously soft and expensive.
“But how do I know when Red will be home?” Adeline asked, all innocence. “You and the Cabals have kept him so busy. People are worried about him. I’ve heard from several of his school friends. Everyone wants to visit. We’re going to have to set up some kind of social calendar.”
“His friends?” Charlie echoed, unsure what to make of that.
“The weekend seems like a good time, don’t you think? Unless you’ve got something else on your agenda.”
Charlie thought of the photos of Remy Carver she’d seen online, from his New York days. Remy at charity balls in a tuxedo, champagne glass in one hand. Adeline always nearby. Surrounded by rich, young women with highlighted hair, tweezed brows, and satiny cocktail dresses. Young men in starched, open-collar shirts with gleaming gold watch bands and movie-star stubble.
Could Red act like that person? Could hebethat person? He and Remy had been made of the same memories, after all, the same blood and trauma.
Well, most of the same blood.
“I’ve got work,” Charlie told her. “Pick a different weekend.”
Adeline gave that tinkling laugh again. “Oh, surely we can figure something out.”
“We’ll see.” Charlie’s head was throbbing again. She shouldn’t have answered the phone the first time—and she definitely shouldn’t have called Adeline. She wasn’t in a fit state to match wits with anyone.
Now that she was getting her own way, Adeline was practically congenial. “I’ll text you a time for Saturday.”
“My phone is busted,” Charlie said. “I’m not getting texts right now.”
“Your life is full of so many inconveniences,” Adeline said airily. “Come at eleven for brunch, then.”
“To the house?” Charlie asked, dreading the thought of returning to that place.
“Of course to the house.” Adeline’s voice was impatient. “Where else?”
For a moment, Charlie thought of just hanging up the phone and lying back down. Or just refusing to go. But it seemed Red was about to be Remy Carter, officially alive and officially rich—and she wouldn’t be the person holding him back.
“Don’t give my number to anyone else,” Charlie told her, voice hard. “And if you already did, tell them to forget it.”
“Don’t be—”
“And if you want me as Vince’s chauffeur, no more threatening or extorting or bribing me. Do you understand?”
“You’re the threat, Charlie Hall. Remy was like a brother to me and Red is part of him. It’s not fair for you to keep us from one another.”
Charlie recalled the paparazzi photo she’d seen online, the one that seemed to catch Adeline and Remy engaged in an intimate act on a yacht—something suggesting they didn’t consider themselves siblings, despite growing up together in Salt’s house. “I’m not keeping you from anything. Arrange your plans with him.”
There was a long silence from the other end of the line. With all that money, it must be galling that there were things she couldn’t control.
“Fine,” Adeline said. “Put him on.”
“Sorry,” Charlie said sweetly, aware that she was being unreasonable and doing it anyway. “He’s not here right now.” Then she hung up.
