Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“Solitary. They’re worried about another attack, so they’ve moved me to a different part of the prison. At least it offers more privacy. Prison doesn’t want a lawsuit on their hands.”
“I guess that’s the cup half full outlook,” I say, distracted, because I need my questions answered.
We all sit down. “Have you told him?” Horatio asks Higgins.
Higgins shakes his head.
“Told me what?”
“I’m retracting my confession and bringing forth new evidence.”
“Excuse me?” I look from Horatio to Higgins and back.
“Fox and I had a deal. He’s gone back on that.”
“Unfortunately, when a prisoner confesses after admitting to having lied at least once, the courts aren’t exactly eager to take him at his word again,” Higgins says.
“Well, it’s a start,” Horatio says. “And the evidence I have doesn’t rely on my word. They hear it directly from the horse’s mouth.”
“What evidence are you talking about?”
“Later. That’s not why you’re here. How is my daughter?”
I raise an eyebrow.
“She is that, Silas. No matter if we share blood or not. How is she?”
“She met her grandfather today.”
His eyes narrow and he clenches his jaw.
“To be honest, he doesn’t seem so bad.”
“No?” he sits up, leaning toward me. “Then you’re not paying attention.”
“Listen, Horatio,” I start, sitting closer, clasping my hands together and setting them on the table. “I’m going to need to know exactly what is going on and who knows what. I can’t juggle all the players if I don’t know the truth. The whole truth. You know I have Ophelia’s best interests at heart. So talk. Because right now, she’s at my lawyer’s office looking over paperwork sent by Carlisle-Bent’s attorneys that will, from what I understand, make her the sole inheritor of the Carlisle-Bent fortune. And from what I can see, Chandler isn’t too happy about that.”
“I told you to keep her away from them.”
“And she wanted to meet her grandfather. My loyalty is to her, not you.” His eyes narrow but I continue. “I’m back to the envelope Sly had me deliver some years back. The one you saw the other night.”
Horatio nods, his expression darkening at the mention of the envelope.
“What was in it, exactly? Then, I mean. How much does he know?”
He glances at Higgins, sits back in his chair, and shifts his gaze to me.
“He knows she’s a Carlisle-Bent. He thought he knew that I kidnapped her mother. Those newspaper clippings were what was inside that envelope along with copies of our driver’s licenses, both mine and Claire’s.”
“Does he know you’re not her biological father?” I ask outright. “Because the old man confirmed that Fox made sure she was a Carlisle-Bent. I assume he did that with a DNA test, DNA he’d have obtained easily enough when she was with Ethan. But that makes her Claire’s daughter and he’d have no reason to believe you’re not her father. At least I don’t think so. Am I correct?”
“You are.”
“The bloodwork that was included in the paperwork I found in the box hidden in your office, he’s never seen that?”
“He’s never seen it, no.”
“So Sly doesn’t know that you’re not her biological father?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think so? But you don’t know for sure?”
“It’s not exactly a question you can ask without raising suspicion, is it? No. I don’t know for sure. But if he did know, he’d have used the information against me by now.”
I inhale, exhale. I’m not sure that’s good enough. “Why would you keep it, Horatio? Why keep the evidence?”
After a long moment, he sighs, and it’s as though he’s come to terms with something. “Because it was in Phee’s biological father’s best interest to keep our whereabouts a secret.”
This is a turn I don’t expect. “So, you were using that information to blackmail Ophelia’s biological father?”
He nods gravely.
I look at Higgins then Horatio. “What the fuck am I missing?”
“Higgins. Can you step out for a minute?”
Higgins nods, gets up and leaves the room, closing the door behind him.
Horatio studies me and I imagine he’s weighing his options, deciding what he can and cannot—what he should and should not—tell me.
“You need to come clean. Completely clean.”
He gets up, walks a few steps away, keeping his back to me. “The suicide note. Do you remember what it said?”
I remain seated, watching his back. I can still see the handwritten note, the blotched ink where I imagine tears spilled, his and hers.
I’m sorry. I can’t look at her. I can’t stand it. I’m sorry.
Claire
“I remember.”
“She couldn’t stand it because when she looked at Phee,” he starts, turning to face me, any anger or abruptness gone from his voice. “She didn’t see herself. I did. I only saw Claire in Phee.”
I wait as he pushes a hand into his hair and shakes his head.
“Who is he? Who did she see?” I ask and a sense of dread fills me. Because I think I might be able to guess. I think only one thing makes sense.