Page 14
I shake my head.
He nods toward Truie, the silent question perfectly clear, though I’m not sure how clear my shrug and head tilt are as a response. Not until he sinks lower in his chair and folds in on himself in defeat.
“Fucking hell.” Eddie raises his glass and drinks deeply. “So Alain is dead, the file is still missing, and Christophe finally has his honeybee. Want to tell me about what’s happening here?” He lifts his chin at me, sitting behind the boss’s desk with a beyond scared, utterly silent, trembling woman on my lap.
I let the question hang between us while Eddie taps angrily at the screen of his phone. Only when he sets it face down on his thigh and gives me his full attention do I respond.
“Remember the girl who was taken several years ago, the one who showed up out of nowhere and didn’t speak? She was living with the L’Oursons until they OD’d. Well, she was at the cemetery with Winnie when Christophe went to collect his debt, and here we are.”
“She been here the entire time?” He asks a vague enough question, I give him a yep and nothing more. Technically the two estates are attached, so here and there are really all the same, and there is no way I’m giving her up. No way I’m not going to stand up and protect her with all I have. “And you have nothing more for me?”
“Not now. Though we should verify that the security footage at both locations has been wiped.” Our guys know the protocol, but we need to control this situation and the narrative surrounding it. Make sure nothing gets leaked that we don’t want out there.
Eddie scowls at his phone and heaves out a sigh that carries the weight of the world with it. There’s only one thing that pulls that weariness over him like a little black rain cloud—his ex.
“Amie stirring up shit over Evie?” There should be an again tacked onto the end of that question, but that’s not a scab I want to pick at right now. Not when I have my own pile to deal with.
“Every chance she gets.” He pushes to his feet and rounds the chair he just vacated. “When are you free to go over the details? We need to get fully synced before shit blows up in our faces.”
“Give me a couple hours. Let me get her settled and get Christophe up to speed. Crash here, if that’s easier for you,” I offer, fully expecting him to do just that.
But Eddie pulls his phone from his pocket and frowns at it again before turning and stalking from the room. “Text me a time when you’ve got one. Sooner is better.” And then he’s gone, leaving me with more questions.
Silence settles in as the sky begins to lighten, the silhouettes of individual trees stepping out of the darkness. And the rigid ball of tension in my lap softens.
Bit by bit, minute by minute, she uncoils. Every pass my hand makes from her ankle to knee and back again has her muscles thawing. She’s got to be exhausted. That level of sympathetic response is a lot, the full-on freeze, non-responsive, kick-you-in-the-ass kind of a lot.
It seems like, in the blink of an eye, the progress we’ve made since bringing the girls here has come completely undone, but instead of a neat tidy spool to deal with, it’s become a tangled mess. And I can’t put my finger on the point around which we pivoted.
As gently as I can manage, I lean us forward so I can reach the tray Eddie barely touched. I slide it closer, within easy reach when I sink back into my chair, because this girl needs to eat. She’s so slight. Holding herself that tight has got to use some serious energy, and she does not have anything extra on her to burn.
I stack some cheese and prosciutto on a cracker and offer it to her. It feels like an absolute dick move, trying to feed a grown-ass adult what amounts to a childhood snacky-snack. And when she shakes her head, I pop it into my mouth, because after this shit night, I’m low on fuel too.
Systematically, I put together various combinations of the different offerings and line them up on the edge of the desk where Truie can see them. The first to spark interest is a candied pecan—a single fucking nut that she takes way too fucking long to eat. She’s probably expending more energy nibbling at her choice than it’s providing. No wonder she’s light as a fucking bird.
Next is an apple with the smallest slice of brie possible. Each time I find something she likes, I assemble two more, not that it makes any difference. Total, she might consume less than a handful of food before her interest lags, and if her slow even breaths are anything to go by, she succumbs to asleep. Barley enough to keep her alive. So, I add Have a conversation with Winnie to my never-ending to-do list.
There’s no doubt that Truie’s a mess, there never has been. At least not since she was found. Before that, she was a powerhouse. Small but mighty. I saw her stand watch when Winnie’s parents sent her to do their dirty work. Watched Truie stare down the dumb shits who thought they were getting more than what they were offered. She was strong when Winnie was weak and took care of her friend. Winnie let it spill that they were prepared to leave town, just now, but back then too.
Then Truie was grabbed.
She was held, hidden away for months.
She endured some vile fucking things at the hand of the man who died tonight, not to mention the men he allowed free rein.
And when she was found? Well, she was a ghost of her former self, and I need to get her back.
Chapter 7
Twisted
TEAGUE
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me any of this shit?”
My boss is officially delusional.
“You specifically said not to disturb you under any circumstances. Did that once last night and didn’t really love the outcome, you know what I mean?” I turn the computer monitor my way to check on Truie.
