Chapter 8 · Father Wakes With the Wrong Name

Silas had the file in his hand when Vivian found him.

He was halfway down the service stairs, the autopsy report folded inside his coat pocket, and he'd already mapped the route. Out the kitchen door. Through the garden gate. Four blocks to the streetcar. Gone before sunrise.

She didn't say his name. She just stepped into the stairwell and locked the door behind her.

"You got what you wanted," she said. "Now sit."

He didn't sit. "I'm done."

"You're not."

"I gave you twenty-four hours. You got your proof. That body in France? Wasn't identified. Wasn't claimed. Could've been anyone." He pulled the file out, held it up. "This clears me."

"It doesn't clear you. It just means Daniel's body was never confirmed." Her voice was flat, tired. "Which means you can keep playing him, or you can help me find out who put you up to this."

"No one put me up to anything."

"Liar."

Silas laughed. It came out sharp. "You think I'm the liar? Your whole family's been lying for seven years. I just showed up."

Vivian stepped closer. Close enough he could see the shadows under her eyes, the way her jaw was set.