And that fucking fire... it took it all away.
Ivy’s gaze drifted to her mother’s face next. Everyone always commented on how much they looked alike. Ivy knew that this wasn’t necessarily complimentary. Women didn’t often like being compared to someone twenty-five years their elder. But in this case, Ivy didn’t mind.
Wendy Reeves was a beautiful woman. Understated, with hair that was the same color but less curly than Ivy’s own. Same heart-shaped face. Same small, slightly upturned nose.
A tear dropped on the glass and Ivy wiped it away with her thumb.
Why’d you leave, Mom? We could have gone through this together.
Ivy’s thoughts turned to the night of the fire. Remembered calling her mother because her father had dialed Ivy instead of Wendy.
How things might have been different if her father had called his wife that night. Ivy had wanted to tell her mother everything. Tried to, several times. But Wendy had been so devastated by what had happened that she was intractable.
They’d both stayed by her father in the hospital, answered all the grumpy police captain’s questions. Held hands.
Promised that this wouldn’t break them.
For an entire week, Ivy and her mother went home only to shower and change. The rest of the time, they were at Gene’s side.
Being a daughter of a professor—of mathematics, no less—and following in her father’s footsteps, Ivy wasn’t religious. But Ivy had prayed then. Prayed that none of this had ever happened.
God, wind back the clock. Please.
If Ivy was anything, she was a realist, the praying notwithstanding. She knew that Gene wasn’t thebestfather—his work always came first. And toward the end, it had completely consumed him. Working through the night. Forgetting to shower, to eat. And when Gene had woken up from his coma, which the doctors had warned them would probably never happen, her mother knew what had really occurred. By then, it was too late for Ivy to explain. Wendy was a broken woman, and the next day, she was just gone.
No note, no email, not even a text.
She grabbed a small suitcase, packed up a few belongings, and just vanished.
Ivy stayed behind. Dealt with the—
There was a knock on the door and Ivy startled, nearly dropped the photo. Her fingers and thumb burned. She placed it down before unlocking the door.
“Abs, I think—”
Ivy had just started to turn the knob when the door was flung inward, pushing her back.
“Abs?”
A hand reached out and gripped her by the throat.?
?Chapter 48
“Math Genius Deadin Mysterious Fire,” Darnell read off his phone. “Dr.Steve Neely, professor of mathematics and statistics at Princeton University, co-winner of the Fields Medal, and a strong candidate for the Nobel Prize in mathematics, was found dead in the early hours of the morning. The medical examiner reports that Dr.Neely died from asphyxiation following a fire in his rural New Jersey home. Princeton Police are investigating. Dr.Neely’s partner, also a professor at Princeton, Dr.Eugene Reeves, suffered major injuries in the fire and his condition is listed as critical. He is currently in the ICU at Penn Medicine Princeton Medical Center. More details to follow.”
Vaughn pictured Ivy’s father and that horrible face mask. The way he just stared blankly, even when Delaney had a gun trained on him, ordering him to put up his hands.
The lack of any semblance of a response or understanding.
“Do you have access to the police report?”
Darnell nodded, swiped his screen, then continued to read.
“On June 5, 2022, at approximately 01:34 a.m., PPD responded to a residential fire at 63 Windemere Road. Two bodies were recovered from the scene. One was DOA, the other unconscious. The body inside the building was later identified as Dr.Steve Neely. Official cause of death was asphyxiation. There was evidence of blunt force trauma to the skull consistent with a fall from loss of consciousness. Impossible to determine if there was the presence of defensive wounds due to extreme burns on over 90 percent of the victim’s body.”
Darnell cleared his throat.
“Dr.Eugene Reeves was discovered by his daughter, who received a phone call from her father and was first on the scene—Ivy Reeves was also the one who placed the 911 call alerting PPD of the fire. Ivy dragged her father’s unconscious body from the house. He had severe burns on his face. Ivy had minor burns and was treated at the scene. Dr.Reeves was unconscious and taken to PMC. He was admitted to the ICU at 2:46 a.m. A joint investigation between the fire marshal and the PPD revealed that the fire was electrical in nature. No evidence of an accelerant was present. PPD subsequently exercised a warrant on both parties’ cell phones and computers. No computers were found at the scene or in either party’s place of work. An escalating series of text messages between the two mathematicians was discovered (see accompanying notes). These appeared to be work-related—Dr.Neely and Dr.Reeves were colleagues at Princeton. The final message was written by Dr.Reeves and had a read receipt:Don’t you dare fucking do anything. This is my work.”
