Chapter 15 · Blood in the Cufflink

Vivian's hand won't stop shaking.

The cufflink sits on the desk between them. Gold. Engraved. Daniel's initials curled in that stupid Victorian script Mother insisted on. The brownish stain along the edge isn't rust.

She knows it's blood.

"Where did you find this," she says. Her voice comes out flat.

Silas leans back in the chair, and for once he's not grinning. No smirk. No performance. He looks tired. "Roy's office. Bottom drawer of his filing cabinet, under about six layers of contracts. Locked box. Took me three tries to crack it."

"You broke into his office."

"Yeah."

"When."

"Two nights ago. While you were at the hospital."

Vivian swallows. Her throat's dry. She wants to look away from the cufflink but she can't. It's been seven years. Seven years and someone kept this. Someone pulled it off Daniel's cuff that night and locked it away like evidence.

Like insurance.

"There's more," Silas says. He slides a folded paper across the desk. Police report. Faded ink. Dated April 10, 1920. "Witness statement. Some dock worker saw two men dragging someone toward the water. One of them was tall. Blond. Wearing an expensive coat."

Vivian reads it twice.