I squeeze back. “She’ll handle it. She always does. Everything I know, I learned from her. How to talk without saying anything. Smile without being friendly. Insult without being rude.”
I never realized how vital those lessons would become. I guess I should thank her.
Footsteps stop just outside the room.
“Mrs. Hearst, thank you for making time.” Detective Colvin keeps his voice as mild as cream. “I know you must be busy with your guests.”
“Not at all, Detective. I’m always happy to assist Chicago’s finest.” My mother is all silken hospitality, yet every syllable contains a tinge of annoyance that suggests she’s doing him a huge favor and that he should hurry up. “Sorry to talk here, but I’m in the middle of something. What can I help you with?”
Colvin clears his throat, and his shoes squeak as he shifts. I can just imagine my mother’s pointed glance at his feet.
“I appreciate your time. I’m here about your daughter. We had reports of a violent incident near her apartment earlier this month. I spoke with Jordan at the Soul Journeyers Conference over the weekend, but I had a few additional questions. However, I haven’t been able to reach her. I hope she’s all right.”
Kirill, a gun on a hair trigger, stiffens beside me, every muscle locked and loaded.
I press my palm to his chest, trying to radiate calm through my own aura.
My mother’s a master at playing this game. She’s dodged bigger bullets than this.
“Thank you so much for your concern, Detective. She’s just fine.” Mom doesn’t miss a beat, her voice immaculately modulated.
Colvin’s demeanor sharpens. “So, you’ve spoken to her recently?”
“Yes.” She offers no more than that one-word response.
I can almost see Colvin’s smile, the same placid, prodding expression he wore at the hotel when questioning me. “I’m glad to hear that. It’s just…there was another, similarly violent event a few weeks ago with a different young woman. In Willow Creek, a suburb just outside the city. Both incidents seem to involve a well-known Chicago crime family.”
Kirill tenses again, a shark smelling blood in the water. My hand tightens on him.
“What does that have to do with my daughter?” My mother’s tone adopts that cool, measured confusion she’s perfected. Just the right touch of maternal worry wrapped in social outrage. “It sounds like the police department needs to have more officers patrolling the streets instead of barging into the parties of their superiors.”
She just subtly reminded him that the captain of the police force is likely drinking in her ballroom. Along with the mayor, the district attorney, and maybe a few judges.
Colvin hesitates. “Both women’s names came up in relation to a cold case I’m reexamining that happened fifteen years ago. From Isla de Huesos, an island in the Atlantic.”
Isla de Huesos. The place where my father died. The place where everything began, though I didn’t know that then.
For the first time, my mother’s composure slips.
“I know precisely what Isla de Huesos is, Detective.” Now she’s all ice, every syllable a razor. “My late husband died there. My daughter was a child at the time, and she was not on that island.” Brick by brick, my mother builds the defensive wall, hervoice frigid and lethal. “If you’re attempting to connect her to a gangland feud based on a tragedy that happened fifteen years ago which didnotinvolve her, then you are not only mistaken, you are overreaching.”
She draws out that last word like a threat. No need to raise her voice. The kind of power that comes from wealth, connections, and reputation hums beneath her calm.
And it flattens Colvin. “Ma’am, I…”
“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” she’s already dismissing him, “the governor is waiting for a word.”
“I’ll show the detective out.” Hearing the familiar click of Damian’s boots confirms that not much has changed over the years. He’s always prepared for any situation.
“Thank you, Damian. Good evening, Detective.”
Footsteps track down the hall. Colvin first, then Damian.
Mom waits on the far side of the door, guarding us until the coast is clear.
Time scrapes by. My ears start to hallucinate as I think of all the things I might hear. Doors opening. Running. My mother calling for help.
Why is Colvin so interested in the island? And who’s the other woman?
