“Of course, that’s Steve and my dad. They’d just jointly won the Bôcher Memorial Prize. Why?”
“That’s your dad signing the paper, right?”
“The acceptance—yeah.”
Ivy had no idea why Vaughn was showing her this photo, either.
“With his left hand. Your dad, he was—sorry, is—a lefty, right?”
Ivy clammed up. This wasn’t trending in the right direction.
Vaughn nodded to himself, put the phone away. Ate another piece of sushi.
“So... I did a little research in my spare time.”
Nope, not trending well at all.
“Found out that after the fire, the ME used two things to identify the body of the unfortunate man who died. One was your claim that you recognized your father from his wedding band—Steve didn’t wear one, his wife died years ago—and you dragged him out of the fire. Saved his life. The second was dental records for the deceased. A positive match to Steve Neely.”
Ivy pressed her lips together so tightly that small vertical creases formed in her upper lip.
“I got to wondering, how difficult would it be for someone who was pretty good with computers—good enough to, say, delete all applicants but one for a TA position—to switch the dental records of two individuals? I mean, you wouldn’t have to even copy or paste the images. You could just change the names in the main database.” Vaughn swirled his glass. The beer spun a miniature vortex—exactly what Ivy’s life suddenly felt like. “You know, this whole time, I thought that Tristan deleted the other applications to get close to you. But that wasn’t right, was it? It was you who made sure he became your TA so that you could get close tohim.”
Ivy felt sweat break out on her forehead.
Vaughn drank the rest of his beer. Then he surprised her by raising his hand and calling the waitress over.
“Can I get another, please?”
“Sure. And for you?”
Ivy hesitated. She still had three-quarters of a pint left. She downed it all, but her throat remained parched.
“Please.”
The drinks came a few minutes later. Ivy hadn’t touched her food in the interim. She took a heavy gulp. Set her glass down. Stared at the condensation on the side.
“And then,” Vaughn finally continued after what seemed like an age, “I went to Dr.Reeves’s room at the DAL residence. Found it strange that you visited him every week, but never put up a single photo of your father on the walls. Not of you and him, not of him at work. Definitely not the... what did you call it? Boucher Award signing?”
“Bôcher Memorial Prize,” Ivy said dryly.
“Right. The one where he’s signing with hislefthand. The thing is, Ivy, when I saw your dad the first time, he was fiddling with this chest piece—the rook. And he was using hisrighthand.”
Ivy lowered her eyes. Her own hand was burning. No, not her hand—not exactly.
Her thumb and right index finger.?
?Chapter 81
Three Years Ago
Ivy drove asfast as she dared, her father’s ominous words repeating over and over in her head.
The work... the work is what matters... Dr.Neely... he’s going to do something... find his laptop... the laptop, Ivy... the laptop...
She didn’t notice the fire, not at first; it wasn’t visible from outside. But, to be fair, she hadn’t really been looking.
Ivy opened the front door and immediately felt the heat. It was like a wall. Her eyes watered; her skin immediately became slick.
