In the bathroom at Constance’s home, Adeline stared at herself in the mirror until the tears stopped and she had convinced herself that she could do what she had come there to do.
Constance rose when Adeline returned.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Adeline shook her head. “It’s not you. This is why I came here. I need to work through my feelings.”
They sat, and this time Constance seemed resigned to listen rather than talk. She asked Adeline a series of questions, and finally she said, “Dani tells me you’re taking a semester off.”
“I am.”
“And interning at Absolom.”
“Yes.”
“I admit, when Dani emailed us, I was opposed to it.”
That surprised Adeline. “Why?”
“I don’t think Absolom—or college, for that matter—is where you should be right now.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You should get away from here, Adeline. I don’t know exactly what’s happening, but it seems to me that someone used you to get to your father.” The older woman held up a bony, spotted hand. “I hope you don’t mind me saying that.”
“Not at all. I agree with you.”
“Staying here, in my view, is dangerous. And not just for your physical safety. You risk your mental health, which, frankly, is any person’s last resource, a citadel you can rebuild from. When I envision you walking through the doors of Absolom Sciences, I can only imagine the hurt you’ll feel, seeing his picture on the wall in that lobby, knowing you’re walking the halls he did. The looks you’ll get. It’ll only remind you of him and what you’ve lost. That’s the last thing you need right now.”
“What’s the alternative?”
“Get away, Adeline. Go to Europe. Or Asia. Or just take a long cruise around the world and don’t look back. And don’t come back until you can see a picture of your father or hear his name without crying inside—or outside. That’s how you’ll know you’re healed.”
Adeline had to admit: it was tempting. She imagined herself standing on the deck of a ship, looking out at the open sea, hearing the clink of champagne glasses behind her, waves crashing on the bow below, a warm wind blowing through her hair. But mentally, as she put herself in that place, she knew the truth, and she spoke it next.
“I don’t think I could ever travel far enough to outrun the hurt I feel. But I might work my way through it.”
Constance smiled—a sad, somber smile that seemed to wrap Adeline in its arms. “I know exactly how you feel.”
Constance turned, and Adeline realized that Gretta was standing on the patio. She pointed to her watch. “Sorry, ma’am. It’s time.”
Constance thanked her and rose. “When you get to my age—when your health starts failing you—there’s a lot of maintenance. If you’ll excuse me.”
Constance exited the room and ascended the staircase in slow, labored steps.
Adeline watched as Gretta strode off the patio, past the pool, and back to the guesthouse just beyond, which must have been where she lived or at least stayed while she was on duty.
Adeline sensed that this was her moment. It wouldn’t last, but it would be the best chance she had. Now or never. Commit or give up.
She made her decision.
She grabbed her bag, drew out the first picture frame, and swapped it with its match in the living room. In the kitchen, she replaced the soap dish.
She glanced out the window at the backyard, to the guesthouse. The door was still closed.
Her heart was racing. She listened, but the house was quiet. How much time did she have?
She dashed to the foyer and set the small plate down and shoved the original in the backpack.
Now came the risky part.
She ascended the stairs, eyes wide, watching, listening, ready to retreat.
At the landing, Adeline heard a noise at the end of the hall. Beyond the closed door of the master bedroom. Constance was in the bathroom.
One of the matching picture frames sat on a console table a few feet away. Adeline pulled the surveillance frame from the backpack and slipped the picture inside it and stowed the original in the bag.
She crept across the hardwood floor to the closest door, which she expected to lead to a guest bedroom. When she opened it, Adeline stopped cold. There was no bed in the room. Only a small desk and rolling chair. The walls were covered in cork. Pinned to it were dozens of pictures. And sheets of paper with names. And dates. All in the last twenty years. There was also a massive map of Europe, America, and Asia. Some of the pictures were tacked to places on the map with a note and the date of death.
It was like something out of the movies. A serial killer’s den. A shrine to deaths across the globe.
Adeline wanted to run. Every fiber of her being told her to. But she stepped deeper inside the room and gently closed the door. There was too much information here for her to write down. Or memorize. She took out her phone and clicked the video option and began holding it up to everything she saw. She walked around the room, taking it all in.
Beyond the door, she heard footsteps on the landing.
Adeline was near the end of the room. The steps drew closer.
Her hand shook.
She reached her other hand up to steady the phone, her eyes on the door, expecting the knob to turn. The electroshock weapon was in the bag. Overpowering Constance wasn’t the problem. But what if Constance had help here in the house? What if the caretaker, Gretta, was more than that? What if she was an accomplice?
Outside the bedroom, Adeline heard footsteps on the stairs, labored, slow steps going down.
Constance.
Carefully, Adeline opened the door and peered out. The stairway was clear.
She heard footfalls on the rug in the foyer.
Now or never.
She raced across the upper landing on her tiptoes, hoping the sound didn’t echo below. In the master bedroom, she set down one of the frames and picked up the original, fingers fumbling for the tabs that held the glass and picture in place.
“Adeline?” Constance called from below.
Adeline froze. She focused on the frame, but her fingers wouldn’t work. It was as if they had turned to soft rubber.
“Adeline?” Constance called again from downstairs.
She was caught.
Adeline made for the door but stopped. One last chance.
In the master bathroom, she replaced the soap dish and pulled the medicine cabinet open. Bottles of prescription medications spread out in rows, filling each shelf.
“Adeline?” Constance’s voice was closer now. Was she on the stairs?
Adeline drew her phone out, snapped a picture, and dashed out of the room, out into the hallway.
Constance arrived on the landing a second after, panting, gripping the rail, head down. She looked up and saw Adeline.
“What are you doing here?”
The question struck fear into Adeline. She was caught.
It was over.
Adeline did the only thing she could. She lied. And she was surprised at how easily it came.
“I thought you might need help. You were gone so long.”
Constance squinted at her.
“And then I needed to use the bathroom.”
“You went earlier.”
“I didn’t… I only cried. I had to actually go this time.”
Constance studied Adeline’s face for a long moment. Her gaze shifted to the strap across her shoulder that led to the backpack filled with the pictures and items Adeline had just stolen from Constance’s home. It was as if the older woman could see right through the bag—and Adeline herself. She had never felt so exposed in all her life. How had she ever thought she could do this? That she could walk into Constance’s home and ever get away with it?
Had Daniele set her up?
Constance exhaled, as if disappointed. As if she was dreading whatever she had just decided. She turned and descended the stairs. She didn’t ask Adeline to follow, but the younger woman fell in behind her.
In the living room, Constance didn’t sit. She stood, the fire crackling behind her, staring at Adeline as she entered the room.
“Dani said you had something you wanted to give me.”
Adeline hesitated. The porcelain figurine of her father had a glass eye with a camera in it. Inside it contained the router that would transmit all the signals from the surveillance items she had placed throughout the house to a satellite. But if Constance broke the small statue open, she would instantly see what it really was. All she had to do was release it, and let it drop to the stone patio floor, and it would all be over.
“Do you have it?” Constance asked.
Adeline set down the backpack and took out the figurine and handed it to the older woman, who gripped it with both hands and studied it.
“Interesting,” she murmured. Adeline had the distinct impression that she was staring at the camera in the statue’s eye.