Chapter 7
“On paper, no one.”
“That is not possible,” I said.
“It is possible,” Vincent replied, “when ownership is buried beneath enough inactive companies.”
Marco continued. “The building has been closed for six years. Utilities disconnected. No recorded access.”
“Recorded?” I repeated.
“That does not mean no one has been inside,” Vincent said.
I stared at the key.
The obvious next step frightened me.
“We go there,” I said.
Vincent shook his head. “Not tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because you are exhausted. Lily is exhausted. And walking into an abandoned property after dark would be reckless.”
“I’m not giving you the key.”
“I am not asking you to.”
“Then we go together.”
“Tomorrow morning.”
I almost argued.
Then Lily yawned so widely that her entire face wrinkled.
Celia reached for her.
“May I?”
I hesitated, then carefully transferred Lily into her arms.
Celia settled her with the confidence of someone who had held many tired children.
“You need food,” she said to me. “And sleep.”
“I need answers.”
“Those too. But answers are rarely improved by low blood sugar.”
Vincent turned toward Marco.
“Arrange for the building to be inspected from the outside only. No entry.”
Marco nodded.
“Also,” Vincent added, “have the hotel Emily selected checked for press or unusual activity.”
I folded my arms.
“You said no men following us.”
“I said no visible security. I did not promise to let you walk into another trap.”
“That sounds like a technicality.”
“It is.”
I expected irritation in his face.
Instead, I saw worry.
Not ownership.
May you like
Not authority.
Worry.
