Susan’s pale green eyes drift to me. They are perfectly empty. They do not, in any way, contain a memory of a cashmere robe sliding open in a hotel ice room.
This is it: the moment when she damns me. Right at the worst possible time, she’s going to ignite Raymond’s rage, and then he’s going to drag me off into the darkness and do to me what I tried to do to him.
I close my eyes and brace for impact.
“It would be such ashame,” Susan says, “to drag Cassandra away when she’s been having such a lovely time. She and I were just getting acquainted this morning, you know. Two of us girls walking the woods.”
Raymond’s smile stiffens. “She’ll have other weekends, Susan.”
“Of course, of course. But the road conditions are so dreadful right now, Raymond.” Susan’s hand goes to her throat as if she’s just thought of it. “They were salting them when we came in, and you know how they ice up without sunshine. Bill watched a truck go right off the shoulder by the second bridge last February. Justwhoosh, into a snowbank. Imagine having to think about Cassandra in the car with you when whatever this is is already taking up so much of your head.”
“I’m a careful driver.”
“I’m sure you are.” She smiles at him, too sweet and bland for even him to take offense to. “But I was thinking: Why don’t you let us keep her? Bill and I are driving back tomorrow afternoon, slow as molasses, with the heated seats on. We’d love thecompany. And you can attend to whatever this trouble is with both hands.”
The vein at Raymond’s temple has begun its slow march upward. He looks at Susan, then at me, as if we cooked up this scheme together. “Susan…”
“It’s settled then?” Her voice has not raised a decibel. “Oh, how wonderful! You’re a saint. Cassandra, sweetheart, take your coat back off; you’re going to overheat.”
Raymond’s jaw locks up. If we were alone, I’d already be bruised or bleeding. But in front of Susan… I’m untouchable.
He swallows back his anger. I watch it go down his throat like a fishbone.
“Of course,” he says. “If that’s what Cassandra would prefer.”
“I—” My mouth has gone tacky. “If— If you don’t need me, sweetheart, I’d hate to be a burden to you while you’re dealing with important business.”
“Wonderful!” Susan cries. She tucks her hand into the crook of my elbow. “Drive safe, Raymond. We’ll have her back to you by suppertime tomorrow, polished and pressed.”
Raymond looks at me. Just for a beat. Whatever is in his face is no longer for any audience but mine.
Then he turns, and goes.
Guess I’ll live to see another day.
One of them, at least.
30
MAT
I watch Raymond’s departure through the leaded glass of the Wolf Suite window. His bag is in the trunk and the engine’s been running for a minute or two while he stands at the open driver’s door, head bowed over his phone again, one hand cupping the screen against the glare off the snow.
Whatever’s on the screen is bad for him. His shoulders are climbing toward his ears and, even though his coat is unbuttoned and the wind is fierce, he doesn’t seem to notice the cold at all.
Bad for him.
That should mean good for me.
I’d like to know exactly what kind of good, though. And I’m prepared to do exactly that. My car keys are in my right hand and my bags are packed. Mission discipline says I ought to follow.
After all, a senior partner doesn’t tear out of his firm retreat in the middle of lunch unless something has gone either very wrong in his other life. Whatever number just lit up Raymond’sscreen, whoever just dragged him away from his pheasant pie and his bourbon—that’s someone I would like to meet.
I can almost hear my uncle, as if he’s whispering in my ear from just out of sight.
Get in your car, Matvei.
Go after thismudakand find out who he’s working for.
