Gwen remained silent and drove.
Despite her reluctance to answer, I didn’t relent with my questions because I tired of not knowing anything.
“How does he make money? Does he have family? Kids?”
Nada from Gwen.
I sighed. “I don’t know why he took me in if he was just going to ignore me.”
“He’s bus?—”
“Busy, yes, so you’ve said, but would it kill him to say hello every other day? Maybe see how I’m doing?”
“He’s aware of your progress because of our reports, and since you won’t stop pestering, he’s been dealing with the repercussions of you killing Mr. Gavin.”
“I thought the cops assumed he’d murdered me and fled.”
“Unfortunately, his body was found quicker than expected. A car went into the river and a diving team located your vehicle with his corpse.”
“Oh. Guess the cops are ramping up the investigation instead of winding it down.”
“Cillian is handling it.”
“Handling it how?”
Silence. I had to content myself with the fact she’d replied to at least some of my inquiries.
Gwen drove us to a part of the city I’d never actually set foot in. Only people with money shopped on Willowbank Avenue. The swanky street, lined with shops and boutique hotels, bustled this close to Christmas. The early snowfall meant the ski season had already kicked off, which resulted in tourists descending en masse. Multicolored lights twinkled in windows and wrapped around light poles, revealing the busy sidewalks where people holding shopping bags strolled.
Gwen parked the car in front of a store with a blacked-out window. The marquee above carried a simple letter Y, painted in a gold that matched the door to enter. I exited the Lincoln and stood by the car a moment, absorbing the sounds and smells of the busy thoroughfare. For a second, the wave of noise—so many heartbeats!—overwhelmed and I almost jumped back into the vehicle to hide from it.
“Block it out,” Gwen advised accurately gauging my issue.
“I’m trying,” I muttered, ducking my head and trying to bubble myself from the bustle.
“If you’re hungry. I brought a snack.”
“I’m fine, but can we go inside before I’m not?”
In reply, Gwen rapped the door three times and then stood aside. It opened almost instantly and revealed a petite woman dressed in a navy jumpsuit that enhanced her slim figure. “Ah, Mademoiselle Gwyneth,” the lady said in a heavy accent. “What can I do for you today?”
“Hello, Yvette. Sorry for the lack of appointment but Cillian needs Ms. Klondike outfitted.” Gwen waved her hand at me.
The sharp gaze that perused had me fidgeting, and my cheeks heated as I imagined her less than savory judgement of my garments. “The usual uniform I assume?”
“No. Ms. Klondike is not staff, but his protégé. And a new one, at that.”
“Oh.” A single syllable that said so much more. “Come inside so that we can figure out what suits her.”
Expecting a shop with racks, I found myself instead in a space that could have been a sitting room in a home. Thick carpeting, wood panel walls, plush chairs, mirrors, a chandelier that offered dim lighting. What I didn’t see? Any actual clothes.
Yvette clapped her hands. “You will sit while I fetch my measuring tape.”
To my surprise, Gwen stuck with me. I didn’t mind, because I was admittedly intimidated, but it did surprise. “Don’t you have better things to do than babysit me?” I murmured as we waited for Yvette to return.
“I would dearly love to be anywhere but here. However, this is my job.”
“Driving me around?”
