I crack the code in two guesses.
Inside is his passport, a few familiar heirlooms, and some useless stuff from hisI’m-a-collectorphase. But I’m only interested in one familiar item: Mum’s family album.
I start flipping through it. Sequential photos from Mum and Dad’s wedding day, Daniel’s baby photos, then mine, our family holidays and Christmases—our whole life in one ordered album, meticulously organized the way only Mum can.
But when I get to the last pages, I realize there are more photos than there should be.
The leather gives way as I slowly straighten in the chair.
The last photo—it’s the one that was taken at the holiday cottage in the Isle of Skye, hours before the accident.
I draw in a deep breath, waiting for the ache to follow. It doesn’t. Only the lingering warmth of our parents’ smiles. Maybe because that was the last moment when everything was still bright.
I know I shouldn’t. I know Dan will know one’s missing. But I need this piece.
With a glance toward the door, I take out the last photo and put it in my skirt pocket. Just as I’m about to shut the album, something catches my eye. The wallet slot beneath the final photo isn’t empty. A small, folded piece of paper hides behind it.
I unfold it to find a list.
Handwritten.
D. Etheridge
E. Etheridge
J. Cavendish
V. Cavendish
G. Cavendish
Dr. J. Miller
J. Romney
________________
R. Grant
K. Sterling
22
MASON
“This is a fucking mistake,”Kane whines as we step out of the car at the entrance of the grand Devereux Hall.
“I thought you would like being here, you know, keep your head attached to your shoulders, after the stunt you pulled.” I tighten my tie and run a hand through my hair. “A favor that can be easily rescinded if you fail to cooperate.” I pat his shoulder.
Kane gives me the death glare. “You know you’re lighting matches in a room full of gas, right?”
“Then I guess it’s about to get lit.” I smirk. “Good thing I’m fireproof.”
“Your kingdom isn’t fireproof,heir,” he snaps.
“My kingdom. My girl. I’ll deal with it all.”
“Until you see red. Then you’ll torch everything, and Pike and I have to clean up your mess.” He waves a hand toward Hugo, who is walking up the stairs toward us. Hugo’s father and mine follow behind, deep in conversation. “And he’s fucking useless. So that just leaves me.” Hugo flips him off without enthusiasm.
