I lean forward, casting a shadow in her direction. As she breathes it in, I gaze deeply into her eyes until I see the ring around her iris pulse with our mind link. “You did exactly what you were supposed to do,” I say, feeling the thought slide into her brain as if I’m feeding a shoelace through an eyelet. “Now, you will allow me behind the desk to search your computer.”
She smiles warmly, dipping a flirtatious shoulder in my direction. “Come on back. What are we looking for today?”
I pass through the door that leads behind the front desk and lean over her shoulder. “Any reference to Gold Weaver, Inc in your files.”
She snorts, her lashes fluttering again. “Oh, you won't find any.”
“Why won't I find any?” Inwardly, I cringe. I have a bad feeling I know the answer.
“Tony shredded everything with that name on it a few weeks ago and brought in some computer guy to wipe every trace of it from the system.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. I was afraid of that. Denardi never trusted Eloise to keep quiet about what she saw on that invoice. After he beat Eloise, he destroyed the evidence. I’m beginning to think this fucker is a master criminal. I refocus on Tamara, curious how much the woman knows. Her mind is as weak and pliant as a child's. Might as well empty the contents. “Why would Tony destroy everything about Gold Weaver?”
She shrugs. “He told me it wasn't a real company, just made up to use for training. You know, like teaching staff to do things before they do them in the real system. We wouldn't want some newbie sending a test invoice to one of our customers by mistake.”
My stomach clenches. Damn it. That is a reasonable explanation. Is Eloise's last hope simply a mistake? “What do you use for training now?”
Her face goes blank. “You know, I'm not sure.”
Hope surges inside me again. Training system, my ass.“You're doing well, Tamara. Such a great help. I wonder if you could tell me one more thing. What was the address on those Gold Weaver invoices?”
Her pupils dilate, and she stares at the wall. “I don't...” I push deeper into her psyche. Her conscious mind may not remember, but I might be able to nab it from her subconscious if she saw the address. “883 Junction Lane.”
For the first time, I give her a genuinegrin. “Excellent. Now all I need is Tony's login information, and you can head home.”
She giggles. “But I'm supposed to finish this filing before I go.” She glances at the stack of folders to her right. “Tony gets mad if I leave them out.”
I lower my voice to a whisper. “You can come in an hour early tomorrow and finish then. He'll never know.”
“He'll never know,” she repeats.
“Write down his login credentials.” I hand her a Post-it note, and she scribbles the ID and password combo. “Now go. You deserve a break.”
She pops out of her chair. “I deserve a break.” Grabbing her coat and purse from the closet, she strides out the double glass doors toward the elevator. I lock them behind her, then head to Tony's office to do some searching of my own.
15
A Shade Above
ELOISE
After applying for positions at a few more schools in the area, I do laundry and clean while Grams sleeps the day away. At least she’s resting comfortably today. Whenever she wakes, I try to get her to eat and drink something, but she refuses. When I help her to the bathroom, she can’t wait to return to bed and resume staring out the window toward the family graveyard. It’s as if she’s waiting for an appearance from her beloved Howard. I’m not sure how I feel about that. I've accepted that she’s dying, but part of me wants to hold her to me for as long as possible. Another part, a part I’m not ready to acknowledge fully, is starting to understand that she’s ready to go.
Grams has the look in her eye of someone who has better places to be.
She’s fast asleep by the time I roll the two big black garbage bins down the lengthy driveway to the curb for tomorrow's pickup. I always enjoy this walk. The grounds of Harcourt Manor are extensive. It’s a little over a quartermile to the road. As the sun sets behind the pine, hackberry, and sycamore trees that populate our property, I admired the stars and the half-moon in the clear night sky. A person could see eternity from my front yard.
I take my time walking back, allowing the night to seep into me through my coat and the skin of my cheeks. Its touch is reassuring. The universe above me is constant and eternal, unlike my small, inconsequential life, caught in a maelstrom of change. Maybe long after we’re all gone, we'll become part of that great, star-filled expanse. Maybe there will be a day when Tony, this house, the money… none of it will matter. It should be a depressing thought, but somehow it's comforting.
“Is staring at the moon a regular habit for you?” Damien appears beside me in the blink of an eye a la David Copperfield, and I lurch back, barely managing to muffle my scream and not wet my pants.
“What the actual fuck?” I hiss through my teeth, then charge forward, slapping his head and shoulders and giving him a solid shove in the chest. My tantrum has zero effect on him. I might as well have shoved a brick wall. “Damn it! I have a human heart, Damien. Do you even know CPR if I went into cardiac arrest? Worse, if I'd screamed, you might have killed my grandmother with worry about me.”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “My apologies.”
I smack his shoulder again fruitlessly. “Don't sneak up on me like that.”
He sticks his hands in his pockets, his stuttering smirk telling me he's trying not to laugh. “I'd hate to send your little bird heart into cardiac arrest, but if it eases your mind, I doknow CPR.”
