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“Father’s dead.”
My words fall around the room like shattered glass, but nobody moves.
The silence stretches itself out into an uncomfortably long interval as Claire looks at me and then back to Rhea. “Rhea?” She whispers tentatively, placing a gentle hand on my sister’s back. “Are you okay?”
It takes a moment before Rhea blinks slowly like she’s waking up from a dream and trying to remember what’s real. She stares at the cold granite before her, working through what she’s just been told. Claire looks at me again, nervous, helpless. I want to be able to offer them comfort, but that isn’t something I’ve ever been good at, so I simply watch her try to console my sister.
“I...” Rhea opens her mouth and then closes it again. She takes a deep breath, swallows, and then looks up at me. “I’m not sure I heard you right?”
“I hate having to tell you,” I say as softly as I can, like the delivery will really make any difference here. “He’s gone, Rhea.”
Rhea stares at the granite again, her eyes filling with tears. I can feel a pit begin to open in my stomach, a hollow darkness stretching wide. It’s not a new sensation; the void is my oldest companion.
A woman crying isn’t typically something I could brush off, but it also isn’t something I’ve ever learned how to handle. Thankfully, Rhea doesn’t let them fall. Instead, she blinks her tears away, and when she looks back up, it’s with a quiet acceptance.
“How?”
Claire wraps an arm around her, trying to offer some small comfort.
I guess she really is more family than I. She, at least, is willing to offer my sister something I can’t.
I heave a sigh. It’s a question I knew was coming and a question I haven’t yet figured out how to answer. I spent hours trying to come up with some sort of explanation on the flight, but I still have nothing. Turning to the fridge, I grab a couple of beers and place one in front of Rhea and another before Claire.
Claire doesn’t look like the type of girl who drinks lager, but she thanks me as I pop the top off for her.
No easy way to say it. I may as well just treat this like a band-aid, too.
“He was murdered.”
Chapter six
Remy
An angry sob escapes her, and Rhea shakes her head. "I knew he trusted too much... he did business with far too many shady people."
I laugh coldly before I can stop myself. She doesn't even know the half of it.
"Tell me what happened," Rhea demands, straightening and collecting herself. Her grief turned quickly to anger, and now she wants answers.
Claire straightens, too, grabbing the beer that she’d set before her. She tips it to her lips and takes a long swig that I find myself unable to look away from.
I knew she’d ask this, too. Rhea isn't the type to back down, to accept things the way they’re first presented, or to believe everything she’s told. Of course, she also expects me not to lie to her in the first place. "He had come to Costa Rica." I begin. "He wouldn't tell me what the business was, but he said it was huge. I think his exact words were 'life-changing'."
"He… was in Costa Rica?" Rhea repeats.
I knew she wouldn't be happy when she found out, but I didn't expect the hurt in her eyes when they flicker to mine. "With you?"
"Well, he stayed with me, yes. It didn't make sense for him to stay anywhere else. But it's not like we were having family dinner every night. I barely saw him."
"You could have told me.” She accuses, the hurt as obvious in her voice as it is on her face. "He could have told me. I would have flown there so we could all be together for once."
"There wasn't time for all of that." I wave a hand at the ridiculous idea of our family being together again. Whatever reunion my dear sister is imagining we could have had, it’s nothing more than a fantasy. "He wasn't planning to stay long. He was there to close a deal, and then he was supposed to fly right back to Zurich. But something went wrong."
"Well, clearly!" She snaps. "Seeing as he is dead and all!"
Claire swallows, clearly uncomfortable with the turn our conversation has taken. But I can tell she doesn't want to abandon Rhea at a time like this, and I don't care if she hears it all from me. If they’re as close as Rhea says, she'll tell Claire everything anyway.
Claire focuses intently on peeling the label off the beer bottle, and I try not to focus on her.
