I watched him now as the words landed.
For a second, his mouth softened in that same shape. Then it flattened again.
“Yeah,” he said. “He did say that.”
“Did you ever see a body?” I asked.
He stiffened. “Jesus, Amelia.”
“It matters,” I said. “If we’re walking into a room where someone’s about to tell you your dead father isn’t as dead as you thought, I need to know how hard that punch is going to land.”
He stared at me, then out the window. The live oaks were starting to appear now, Spanish moss hanging like shadows in the headlights.
“No,” he said. “I didn’t see a body.”
The car turned onto the private road.
“Okay,” I said.
That was all.
The gates loomed ahead, iron in the dark. They swung open like they’d been expecting us.
This time, the mansion looked different at night. Less like a postcard and more like a stage set: windows glowing warm, columns thrown into relief by low landscape lights, shadows pooling in the corners.
Teddy waited at the base of the steps, as crisp as he’d been that morning. Same dark suit, same straight spine. The only difference was the hint of curiosity in his eyes.
“Mr. Dane,” he said, then, with a small nod to me: “Ms. Emerson. You’re back sooner than expected.”
“Something came up,” Levi said.
Teddy’s gaze flicked over us, taking in my black dress, Levi’s rolled sleeves, the faint sheen at my collarbone from the heat and nerves. One corner of his mouth curved—not quite a smile, but close.
“You make quite an entrance,” he said. “And quite a picture. Charleston doesn’t see couples so well turned out every day.”
My pulse did a weird little skip. Couple.
Levi didn’t correct him.
“Is Charlie still awake?” Levi asked.
“Mr. Dane keeps late hours,” Teddy said. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll see if he’s available.”
We stepped into the foyer, the marble floor cool under my heels, the chandelier spilling soft light over paintings that suddenly felt more judgmental than historical.
Teddy spoke quietly into a discreet earpiece I hadn’t noticed earlier, then turned back to us.
“Front parlor again,” he said. “If you’ll wait there, I’ll send Mr. Dane in.”
We walked the corridor past Obsidian’s glass enclosure. The snake was awake now, black coils shifting slow and deliberate on the branch. Its eyes tracked us as we passed.
“Me, too, buddy,” I murmured.
Levi made a low sound that might have been a laugh if he hadn’t sounded like he was bracing for impact.
The parlor was as we’d left it—dark wood, leather, the faint smell of expensive coffee and something citrusy layered over old books. The lamp by the window cast a warm circle of light over the seating area. Outside, beyond the glass, the lawn stretched into darkness.
Levi didn’t sit.
