Page 108 of Gave Proof Through the Night

“Get out.”

“Hold on. I just want to talk.” He doesn’t retreat an inch. Takes another step closer instead, hands spread wide like he’s the reasonable one in this conversation.

“Well, I don’t want to talk to you.”

“How well do you know America Armitage?”

Something goes cold behind my ribs at the sound of her full name in his mouth, like he’s got no business owning it. I don’t know yet why that lands as hard as it does. I just know it does.

“What’s it to you?”

“You might want to sit down for the next part.”

“I’m fine standing.” My hands have already curled at my sides. I make myself unclench them, one finger at a time, because decking a man in a hotel lobby is not currently on my bingo card.

“Suit yourself.”

A server sets a mimosa on the low table behind him, and he drops back into the chair like the whole lobby belongs to him.

“The name’s Hobbs, by the way.”

"Say your piece and get out."

“You’re a little aggressive, aren’t you?” He takes a sip, unbothered, watching me over the rim of the glass, probably sizing me up.

I can take him.

“You see, what I can’t figure out is whether you’re her accomplice, or just another sucker she’s using. I’m betting on the latter.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The gala. Funny, I thought she was casing the museum. And then you came running along. A hockey player who, it just so happens, will be at the same gala, at the same time, as the thing she’s been wanting for six years.”

“I swear, if you lay a finger on her⁠—”

“Relax, relax.” He waves it off like I’m the one being unreasonable. “Nobody’s laying a finger on anybody. I’m offering you a way out. That’s all this is.”

“I don’t want anything from you.”

“You will.” He sets the mimosa down, folds his hands, and leans in. “Because I’m offering you an opportunity. When that woman gets what she wants from you, she’ll chew you up and spit you out. All you’d need to do is turn her over to me at the right time.”

“You want me to sell her out.”

“Think about it. You’re a patsy to her, that’s all. If she’s going to let something slip, it would be to you. You’d be a hero.”

“I wouldn’t betray her trust.”

“She’s a thief, you know.”

That’s the first truth he’s said yet. Sure, she tried to steal my watch. But the devil’s in the details, isn’t he? Mixing in small truths with the lies.

“Just like dear old dad,” he adds. “Did you know he’s in prison?“

“I’m aware.”

“I put him there.” He picks the mimosa back up, entirely pleased with himself. “And tomorrow, I’ll see his brat behind bars too.”

I freeze. He’s the guy Erica was telling me about. The man on her dad’s crew who decided it was okay to close himself in her bedroom when she was just eighteen years old. It’s consistent with the way he’d cornered her at the museum. Now, looking him over, every piece clicks into place.