I switch on the lamp, and my eyes adjust to the amber glow as I wrap my arms around myself, silently wishing they were someone else’s.
What is wrong with me? What is happening here? Why do I find myself wanting him when he’s the one who’s caused me all this pain? What do I need to do to heal? What am I looking for to make this all go away?
That’s when I notice my mother sitting on the window seat, her hands laid neatly in her lap, her smile just as permanent as it always is. And she’s been at it again, moving things invisibly, leaving me little clues as to what I should do next, because beside her is a dress. My silver dress. The one I wear to all important functions and fancy occasions.
“I’m not going,” I tell her, even though I know the words are a lie and she knows it, too, because what choice do I have? If I want to see and speak to Ed again, then Valdemar Montresor is my only chance. He’s the key that will unlock my brother’s silence.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The wallsof my apartment are shrinking around me as I watch the clock and imagine Una and Dupin waiting outside the prison, Una’s lens trained on the entrance, Dupin’s Dictaphone poised, hungry for today’s headline.
I can picture it now.
Monster Montresor Released.
Will Una get a good shot of Valdemar leaving the prison? Will his head be covered with a dark hood, or will he hold his head up high, knowing he’s done his time and now he gets to live his life as a free man?
Guilt churns in my stomach at not telling Una or Pierre that I’d booked the week off work. Captain knew the significance of the date and had asked if it was the reason I was asking for the time off. I’d explained that I wasn’t sure I could be around the newsroom when all the headlines would be about the guy who killed my brother. He told me he understood, but I’m regretting my decision now, as there’s nothing to stop me heading down to the prison to watch Valdemar being released.
Una was the one first on the case regarding my absence from work, sending me a text.
Hey, are you ok?
I’d replied straight away, telling her I was fine and just taking some R & R time. I also told her I wouldn’t be meeting up for our Monday night drinks, something I’ve never missed. I’ve convinced myself this is simply because I don’t want to have to sit there while Una and Pierre try not to talk about the day’s headline or be tempted to ask Una how Valdemar looked when he walked out a free man, but in reality, I know it’s because of Valdemar’s invite to his release party and my mother’s insistence that I should attend.
Glancingout my apartment window for the hundredth time in the past ten minutes, I consider the idea that maybe the party has been cancelled or Valdemar never made it out of the prison alive. I’ve been avoiding the news and social media all day, and my phone has been eerily silent other than a text from Una telling me where to find her and Pierre this evening if I change my mind.
My mother has been perched on the window seat, where she watched with glazed eyes as I got ready earlier. There wasn’t a flicker on her face when I strapped the knife between my shoulder blades, the feeling of which I’m still trying to get used to, before slipping my silver dress on. Imagining my mother asking for an explanation, I told her I didn’t know why I was taking it with me, just that I knew someone wanted Montresor dead.
Books and movies make it appear easy to strut around with a sharp piece of metal tethered to your back. I’m no warrior, butthe cut of my dress means there’s no other place for it, and my makeshift knife holder is digging in under my bra.
Am I expecting backlash from the unknown pen person as to why Valdemar Montresor walked out of prison today and wasn’t declared dead weeks ago? Or does the note-writer believe I’m playing the long game and have spent the past few weeks worming my way into Valdemar’s inner circle?
But I’ve also considered what I’ll do tonight if Valdemar insists there’s no other way to contact my brother and that he’s giving up on me. Will I need my knife then?
Deep down, I’m not a killer, but I feel a whole lot better taking the knife with me.
Lights crawl across the far wall of my apartment, pulling me from my thoughts.
A sleek black car comes to a stop below my window just as a text lights up my phone.
Your car is here.
The number appears alongside the message, and I quickly save it under VM. He hasn’t wasted any time in acquiring a phone.
“This is it,” I tell my mother, who simply smiles as I leave the apartment not knowing what the hell is going to happen tonight.
There will be no table between me and Valdemar, no guards, no security cameras, no rules. All bets are off.
Will I see the true Valdemar Montresor this evening—or will I see the true Evangeline Bransby?
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
“Miss Bransby?”the driver says as he holds the rear door open for me. He’s a small man in a pressed suit, with dark skin and kind eyes. “Abel Phittim. I’m your driver for this evening.”
“Nice to meet you, Abel,” I reply, wondering if all Raven Hands receive this chauffeur service or whether Valdemar has made an exception for me.
Half expecting Valdemar to be in the back seat, I peer into the car, but I’m met with only sleek leather upholstery that smells of furniture polish and mulled wine.
