My pulse detonated, speeding my blood flow to the point where my limbs felt vaporous. “And what did you tellhim?”
“The same thing I told him when he arrived on the scene seventeen years ago.” Jarod reclined in his chair, nursing the wineglass that looked like it belonged to a doll’s tea set in his hands. “That she’s dead because ofme.”
My spine locked up. “But that’s a lie. Muriel told me whathappened.”
“You never considered Muriel fabricated a story to protectme?”
Had Muriel fibbed to cast Jarod in a better light? Had I just raised Heaven and Hell over alie?
I caught the flutter of a nerve beside his temple. Even though he had no wings to shed feathers from, the mixture of pain and anger lacquering his irises told me Muriel’s account was truthful. Not only that, but if she had lied, she wouldn’t have placed him on the scene of the crime. She would’ve cast him as far away from it as humanly possible and would certainly not have mentioned he’d touched the murderweapon.
“A woman who cares so deeply about someone else would’ve invented a much better lie. One where the little boy she loved wasn’t in the house and wasn’t clutching the blood-soaked letteropener.”
He pressed his lipstogether.
“And before you try to convince me otherwise,” I said, my voice barely over a whisper even though his bodyguards had stayed in the street and there was only one other table occupied at this late hour, “sliding a bladeoutof someone’s heart isn’t what put the hole there in the firstplace.”
“The best lies contain sometruths.”
“I’m certain you’re well-versed in lying, Jarod Adler, but I’m also certain your eight-year-old self did not murderanyone.”
A tendon flexed in his neck. “I wanted her dead. I wished it so often. I even toldher.”
“Your loathing wasn’t whatkilledher.”
A waiter arrived with a platter, which he placed on a little stand. He removed my pretty plate and replaced it with another equally sumptuous one at the center of which stood a work of organic art—a toasted brioche cleaved in half and topped with a thick slice of pinkfoie gras, upon which had been pinwheeled a fig and spice paste. The delightful sight and smell buffeted some of my anger andindignation.
Once the waiter left, having deposited a delicate poached egg with chanterelles in front of Jarod, I said, “You have to tell Asher thetruth.”
“I have.” His lips barely stirred around hiswords.
“You told him you didn’t plant that letter opener in herchest?”
Jarod smacked the tabletop, and it made the cutlery jump and the wine shiver. “Doesn’t fucking matter who planted it in her fuckingheart.”
“It does matter,” I hissed, sensing the eyes of the sommelier and the couple seated by the window. “You’re aTriple, Jarod. A Triple doesn’t get a chance at another life. If your number doesn’t go down, this one’ll be it for you. When you die, it’s gameover.”
Every line on his face tensed, which led me to deduce he’d never been told any of this. But then he leaned further forward and spat out, “One’s plenty. I don’t need a secondlife.”
“Needing is beside the point. Your soul shouldn’t be annihilated because of some technicalerror.”
“Will you let itgo?”
“It’s not fair,Jarod.”
“Life isn’t fair,” he growled. “When will you get that through that coddled brain ofyours?”
A strong desire to bolt wound up my muscles, but I stayed seated, because me leaving was what Jarod wanted, what he expected. My fingers curled around the arms of the chair. I wasn’t strong yet felt like I could tear the wood clean off. Maybe, I should. At least then, I’d have something to throw at the pigheadedsinner.
“Get out!” I thought he was snarling at me, but he was turned toward the sommelier and thecouple.
“Who do you think—” the manstarted.
“Sybille!” Jarod shouted, and the perfectly coiffed matron who’d greeted and seated us clip-clopped inside the room. “Please escort monsieur and madame out. And put their meal on mytab.”
“Of course, Monsieur Adler.” She squared her shoulders, then calmly explained how terribly sorry she was to abort their meal in such an abruptmatter.
Chair legs scraped the parquet, and then muttering how he’d never been thrown out of a restaurant before, the man yanked on his date’s hand and pulled her up and out before she managed to hook her quilted bag’s chain strap onto hershoulder.
