Sophie and Michael were laughing like loons and Vito had to laugh, too. Finally Sophie stood, picking pasta from her hair. “On that note, it’s bedtime. No,” she said when Pierce whined. “Generals don’t whine, they march. Now go downstairs, quietly. Don’t wake Gus.” When the boys were gone, Sophie looked at Vito. “Bucket and rags?”
“Back porch,” he said and got up from the chair. “Sit down, Pop. You look tired.”
Michael did, which showed he was worn out. But he still laughed. “That was fun. We should do this every Friday night. You’ve set a precedent, Vito.”
Vito sighed. “Pasta on my walls and doughnuts for my team. Dom, Tess, help me pick up these blocks.” They’d stacked them along the wall when Vito realized Sophie wasn’t back with the bucket. His pulse started to race. He’d let her out of his sight. Just to his back porch, but out of his sight. “I’ll be back,” he said tightly.
Then breathed again when he got out to the back porch where Sophie was standing next to Dante, who sat on the overturned bucket, looking sullen.
“Seems to me you just hurt yourself,” she was saying. “You missed all the fun.”
“Nobody wants me in there,” he muttered. “So why should I give you the bucket?”
“One, because I’m an adult and it’s respectful. Two, because your uncle is probably getting antsy right now, seeing the pasta congealing on his walls. Three, because I’m getting ready to push you off the bucket and take it, and I don’t want to do that.”
Dante narrowed his eyes. “You wouldn’t.”
“You watch me,” she said. “You’re being a real brat, Dante, sulking out here.”
Dante lurched to his feet and kicked at the bucket. “Stupid old bucket and stupid game and stupid family. Everybody hates me anyway. I don’t need them.”
Sophie grabbed the bucket and started to leave, then sighed. “Your family isn’t stupid, they’re pretty special. And everybody needs a family. And nobody hates you.”
“Everybody looks at me like I’m scum or something. Just ’cause I broke the meter.”
“Well, I’m just an outsider looking in, but it seems to me that nobody’s mad because you broke the meter. I mean, you didn’t mean to any more than you meant to hurt your mother. You… didn’t mean to hurt your mother, did you, Dante?”
Dante shook his head, still sullenly. Then his shoulders sagged and Vito heard him sniffle. “No. But my mom’s going to hate me.” He started to cry in earnest, and Sophie put her arm around his shoulders. “I almost killed her and she’s going to hate me.”
“No, she won’t,” Sophie murmured. “Dante, you know what I think? I think they’re all disappointed because when they asked if you did it, you lied. Maybe it’s time you started making up for the bad thing you really meant to do and let go of the thing that you didn’t.” Vito watched her shoulders stiffen, then heard her chuckle softly. “Touché to me. You planning to stay out here all night, Dante?”
Dante scrubbed his face. “Maybe.”
“Well, then I recommend you get a blanket, ’cause it’s gonna be a cold night.” She turned and started when she saw Vito watching. She lifted the bucket. “I’m going to clean.”
“Thank God.”
She lifted her brows. “And I’m going to press charges against Lena.”
“Thank God.”
She walked past him and murmured, “Then… minks.”
He grinned at her back. “Thank God.”
Saturday, January 20, 7:45
A.M.
“You’re here early.”
Sophie spun around in the warehouse, her breath in her throat and her hand over her mouth. For a moment she stared at Theo Four, her heart pounding in her chest.
“You’ve suddenly become extremely interested in our little museum, Sophie. Why?”
Sophie got control of her breathing and took a step back. Vito had walked her into the Albright a half hour before. Officer Lyons had already been waiting inside, let in by Ted the Third and Patty Ann, who’d been polishing glass cases. Sophie hadn’t realized Theo was in the museum as well. “What do you mean?”
“A few days ago you hated doing the tours and you treated my father like he was an idiot. Now you’re here early and you stay late. You’ve been unpacking crates and developing new tours that make my father happy and have my mother counting the money that’s going to be coming in. I want to know what changed.”
Sophie’s heart was still knocking in her chest. Simon Vartanian was still out there, and she really didn’t know anything about Theo Albright. Except that he was a big guy, over six-two. She took another step back, grateful that Lyons was only a scream away.
“Maybe I decided to start earning my paycheck, although I’d ask you the same question. A few days ago, you were making yourself scarce. Now you’re here, every time I turn around. Why?”
Theo’s expression darkened. “Because I’m watching you.”
Sophie blinked. “Watching me? Why?”
“Because unlike my father, I’m not an idiot who trusts for no reason.” He turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Sophie staring at his back, her mouth open.
She shook her head. She was being ridiculous, being scared of Theo. But what did she really know about the Albrights? Sophie, come on. Simon was thirty years old and his father had been a judge. Theo was barely eighteen and his father was the grandson of an archeologist. She was truly being ridiculous. Theo was just a weird kid. Still…
She found the ax Theo had used to open crates for her before and set it where she could reach it quickly. Even with Officer Lyons on guard, it wouldn’t hurt to be prepared.
Atlanta, Georgia, Saturday, January 20, 8:45
A.M.
“Daniel. Look. It’s from Mom.”
Daniel looked up from the mail he was sorting to find Susannah focused on a piece of paper that he instantly recognized as stationery from the hotel where his parents had stayed. “She wrote us? And sent it to herself? Why?”
Susannah nodded. “She says that she also sent you a letter.” She sorted through her stack and found it, handing it over to him. She held hers to her nose as Daniel opened his. “It smells like her perfume.”
Daniel swallowed. “I always liked that perfume.” He scanned the letter and his heart sank even as he appreciated the missing pieces his mother had settled into place. “She knew Dad was lying about finding Simon for her but didn’t have the strength to follow him everywhere.”
“Are they the same letter?” Susannah asked.
They put them side by side. “Appears so. I guess she was taking no chances.”
“She sat in that hotel for two days, Daniel, while she waited for Dad to come back.”
“I guess he’d gone to see Simon,” Daniel murmured.
“But I was only two hours away.” There was hurt in Susannah’s voice. “She sat there in pain and alone for two days and never called me.”
“Simon was her favorite, from the time we were little. I don’t know why it still hurts that she saw it as a black-and-white thing. Love us or love Simon.”
“Up to the end she hoped he would be good.” Susannah put the letter down hard on the table. “And she trusted him.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “She knew Dad was missing and still went to meet Simon.”
Daniel blew out a breath. “And he killed her.” If you’re reading this, then I’m probably dead. If you’re reading this, you can be satisfied that you were right about your brother. “She met him and he broke her neck and threw her in an unmarked field.” He looked at Susannah, unable to control the bitterness. “And part of me thinks she got what she deserved.”
Susannah looked down. “I thought it, too. That’s why she sent these letters to herself. If her time with Simon was just an innocent visit, she would have exposed her true fears about her golden child’s character for nothing. If she sent it to us, we’d know. If she sent it to herself, she could scoop them back up before anyone was the wiser.”