“You’re okay,” Anwar repeated over and over again, hoping it would stick.
He moved one of his hands down to grab ahold of Bilal’s, but when he did, he noticed that there was a familiar clamminess to them. He pulled away from Bilal and noticed now how pale the boy had become, as well as his erratic pulse and the shaking that Anwar had thought was from the overwhelm of emotion before but clearly wasn’t.
“Have you taken your insulin today?” Anwar asked softly, his hand tenderly placed on Bilal’s forehead, checking his temperature. Most people outside of Bilal’s immediate family and fencing coaches didn’t know about the fencer’s diabetes. He hadn’t wanted anyone to think there were any gaps in his armor.
Bilal shook his head. “I forgot,” he said hoarsely.
“I’ll get your insulin from Henry, you wait here,” Anwar said, moving to rush out of the room.
“Wari,” Bilal said in a tired voice, holding him back.
“Yeah?” Anwar replied.
“I still love you,” he said.
Anwar felt his heart stop for a moment. “I love you too, Bilal,” he replied.
When Anwar finally stepped out of the room into the hallway that led to the foyer, he was aware of how closed-off they were just now. Their world seemed so quiet and insular before, but as he made his way to the foyer he could hear the low hum of voices through the vast expanse of the Button Manor. It felt like stepping out into an alternate dimension.
When he entered the drawing room to find Henry, it was much emptier than when he’d last left it. Chief Waxler was clearly almost done with whittling down the suspect list, ready to make his arrest.
There seemed to be only five suspects left, plus… the Buttons. They hadn’t been dismissed themselves, Anwar realized.
He felt an uncomfortable sensation rattle through him.
Anwar wasn’t unwise to know what the probabilities were here. He looked out into the drawing room. Romeo, Perdita, and Octavius were sitting away from each other in varying stages of unrest. Fola was nowhere to be seen.
And Bilal was still in the room he’d left him in.
Bilal, who had so many secrets.
Bilal, who Anwar had changed his own alibi for…
Earlier in the day when he’d had his interview, Anwar had told the police that he’d left the yacht with Bilal more than half an hour before they actually had.
This morning, before Anwar had embarrassingly wandered into the dining room where the Buttons were eating their breakfast, Bilal had come upstairs and asked him in a strangely panicked tone to lie if asked about what time they’d left the yacht.
Anwar wasn’t sure why anyone would ask, let alone care to know when they left. That is, until his interview with the police this afternoon when he had to lie and tell them that he’d left way before the time of Mr. Button’s murder, even though he hadn’t. But he didn’t mind lying for Bilal, even if that meant lying to the police. Truthfully, there was a lot Anwar would do for Bilal, especially if it was to protect him.
That didn’t stop the sinking feeling he’d been having all day though, the feeling that had only worsened as the clock ticked and the list of suspects grew shorter. There were holes in all of their stories, and he knew the police would start asking more questions soon. And despite Awar’s relatively calm demeanor during Bilal’s confession…
He was afraid of what else he might find out tonight.
7:56P.M.—THE BUTTON MANOR
Fola had been standing outside the second-floor powder room with her arms crossed for the last two minutes, waiting.
“Almost finished!” Evie’s voice called from behind the door.
“Take your time,” Fola replied. She had been looking for Evie all over the house and had finally found her, minutes ago, rushing into the bathroom like she was trying to get away. Clearly Evie did not want to be caught by the policeorFola. She must’ve known there would be dire consequences either way.
Smart girl, Fola had thought. The police presence had thinned out across the house, probably because there were fewer suspects, thus making it easier to keep track of who still remained. So it was good Evie knew to run. Running made her look guilty.
“All yours!” Evie said cheerfully as the door swung open and she stepped out.
“I actually don’t need to use the bathroom,” Fola said, unpicking Evie’s expression in the same way she unpicked the expressions of the people she played in her chess matches, searching for their weak spots, any vantages she might be able to exploit.
“Oh,” Evie replied, her face now settled into an uncomfortable, forced smile. “So you’re just stalking me, then?”
