Page 105 of Noctis

“How would you know? You don’t eat.”

Having successfully collected everything that had fallen out of the box—most of which comprised files, books, and photograph albums—I added the extra bag to the pile by the door.

“Juicy? Is that a better word?”

What? Oh, right. My arse.

I eyed the cupboard, trying to decide whether it was worth retrieving whatever had gone under it. Would Tyler even notice if it were missing? “You can call it whatever you want.”

“Mine,” Caligo all but growled.

“Yours,” I agreed with a laugh as I got down on my hands and knees and used the flashlight app on my phone to illuminate the dark space. The number of dust bunnies under there suggested I needed to have a word with my cleaner about moving things rather than simply cleaning around them. Something small and metallic rested right at the back. Of course, it was at the back. It belonged to Tyler. Therefore, it was determined to be as awkward as possible.

I lay flat on the floor and slid my hand into the space, stretching as far as I could. My fingers brushed it, and I considered leaving it there for the second time. My cleaner could retrieve it when they did what I asked and cleaned properly. It would provide an easy way of checking they’d done so without requiring me to lie on the floor again.

Except I was already down here.

“Rowan?”

“Yeah?” My voice came out strained as I stretched a little farther, the wood cutting a painful groove into my shoulder.

“Do all humans claim not to be jealous while behaving jealously?”

I laughed. “What are you watching?”

“A documentary called Eastenders.”

“That’s not a documentary. It’s a soap opera. I wouldn’t suggest learning human behavior from there unless you want to keep shouting at people to get out of your pub. I stretched farther, managing to hook the tip of one finger around the object and drag it a few millimeters closer. If this was something from a Christmas cracker, I was going to make Tyler swallow it.

“I’d have to buy a pub first.”

I dragged the object out from under the cupboard, then sat up and brushed away the sizable clump of dust attached to it.

Then I stared.

“How much is a pub? You have money, right? Do you have enough for a pub?”

I didn’t answer.

The object lay in the center of my palm, dulled but unmistakable. A gold band set with a circle of tiny diamonds, one missing from the cluster where she’d caught it on the kitchen counter years ago and never gotten around to having it replaced.

My mother’s wedding ring.

“Rowan?” Caligo called again. “Do you have enough money for a pub?”

It had still been on her finger the last time I saw her.

My hand started to shake.

I’d convinced myself that finding this ring in Donald Wentworth’s possession would implicate him in her murder. So what did it mean that it had been here all along, hidden among Tyler’s belongings?

“Rowan?”

The television went quiet in the living room. I barely noticed over the roar filling my ears. A moment later, shadows stretched along the hallway toward me.

There had to be a perfectly good explanation. My mother could have taken it off and given it to him, although why she would do that made no sense. Perhaps the police had returned it later, and Tyler had forgotten to give it to me.

No. I could close my eyes and catalogue every possession the police had returned after deeming it non-evidential. The ring hadn’t been among them.