Chapter 4
The bitter smell of smoke.
Ryan’s white dress shirt rolled to his elbows.
The orange glow reflected across his face.
A half-burned page curled near the rim of the metal bowl.
“There was a name,” I said slowly.
“What name?”
“Daniel.”
Vincent stopped moving.
Celia whispered, “Oh, dear.”
“I didn’t connect it to anything,” I continued. “I thought it was a client or someone from work.”
“What exactly did you see?” Vincent asked.
“Only the first name and part of a sentence.” I pressed my fingers to my forehead. “Something about safekeeping. Or keeping something safe.”
“Try.”
His voice was gentle, but the request carried weight.
I forced myself to remember.
The paper had been folded. The top corner was blackened. One line had remained visible before the flame took it.
“Daniel said she must never know,” I whispered.
Vincent’s expression changed.
Not fear.
Recognition.
“You’ve heard that before.”
He walked to the window and looked out at the darkening street.
“My sister said something similar the night Daniel disappeared.”
“Your sister?”
“Isabella.”
The name softened his face.
“Daniel’s wife?”
“Yes.”
May you like
“What did she say?”
Vincent did not answer immediately.
