Page 83 of The Puppet Master
What update?
But I know he wouldn’t tell me. I’ve already squeezed as much as I can for today.
Tomorrow, I’ll try again.
I take his hand and let him lead me back to the old house, neither of us saying anything, both feeling as though we’ve said too much. I don’t expect his guard to be lowered again for a while, but I’ll be there when it is.
And I’ll be ready.
CHAPTER 20
THREE DAYS LATER…
My hands shake as I step back from the monitor in my bedroom, my eyes no longer willing to humor me. My sister, Raven flanks my side while Thorne sits in the chair—its spine groaning each time he shifts.
I tell myself I’m just tired. Frustrated. Cranky. The sexists would say I have PMS. Father would say we’re finally getting on the same page.
“I don’t see him anywhere,” Thorne says, the genius that he is. He searches every camera.Every. Single. Camera. Only to come up empty again and again until I feel as though I’m losing my mind while he looks like this is some sort of simple, explainable mistake.
“That’s because he isn’there, my love.”
Thorne turns to me, the cleft in his chin deepening as he ponders, lips pursed, eyes narrowed. “You mean he’s…”
“Gone,” Raven mercifully finishes for me. If I have to explain it aloud, I’ll scream.
Thorne’s eyes widen. “You think he left for good?”
No one answers. Thorne may have a brain the size of a walnut, but he’s smart enough not to repeat the question.
The answer isI don’t know. I’m terrified of the possibility, my hands quaking until I curl them into fists.
Thorne shakes his head. “I thought you said he’d wait for the ceremony.”
He sounds so puzzled, you’d think he believes I can read minds. Or that I got a peek at Mr. Hansley’s notebook where he chronicaled his carefully made plans to steal from my family, my home.
The money has already been counted. If he’s gone for good, he hasn’t taken a dime, which seems too unlikely to be the case.
“He will.” I nod slowly, answering the question for myself as well as for Thorne. “He’ll use it as a distraction… He isn’t gone for good, but he’s gone, and we need to figure out how the hell he’s escaping; otherwise all of this will be for nothing!” My voice raises until I’m yelling, and when I’m finished, the echo of my distress permeates the room.
Neither Thorne nor my sister respond. We stand in uncomfortable silence while we all pretend I’m not losing it.
“I need a walk,” I mumble before heading for the door.
“Your Grace.” The disapproval is thick in Raven’s tone, but she says no more.
She follows me out of the Keep, cool wind whipping my face. I tilt my head back, close my eyes, and savor it. At my feet is a sharp meow, delicate black fur rubbing against my shins. Raven tisks, scoops the cat up, points her apologetic gaze at the hairs clinging to my clothed shins.
I bend and carefully pluck them off.
“I thought I told you to keep her in your room.”
“She’s been restless,” Raven says, head ducked as she opens the door of the Keep and shuts the crying feline inside.
I close my eyes. Take a deep breath. Start down the steps toward the concrete path.
Pigeon-toed feet follow, but Raven doesn’t speak. It makes me feel the tiniest bit better knowing there’s something still in my control, even if it’s only my sister’s mouth.
We walk a half mile before I find the calmness to speak. I can’t help but notice how much weaker my legs feel, how much life my skin has lost, sagging on my face like it’s as tired as I am.
