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After using the commode and washing her hands, she did what repair she could to her dishevelment by applying a lip gloss she’d stuck in a coat pocket before leaving Atlanta. The improvement was slight, but it was the best she could do. She picked up the box, lifted her coat off the hook on the back of the door, and flipped up the lock.
From the other side, the door was thrust open, and Rye Mallett barged in. He reached behind him, shut the door, and locked it.
Astonishment sent Brynn stumbling backward several steps. She dropped her coat but recovered immediately, and shock became outrage. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I want to talk to you.” He bore down on her until he had her backed up against the sink. “I want to talk to you about your father.”
“My father?”
“Dear ol’ dad. That Brynn! My, how you’ve grown scene had led me to believe you were well known because your old man was the sheriff or something. Turns out Wes O’Neal—”
“I know his name.”
“—is a thief! By trade.”
She took a series of short, shallow breaths. “Who told you?”
“Doesn’t matter. Point is, he’s a crook, in and out of county jail so many times, they considered putting a revolving door on his cell. You were a regular at the sheriff’s office. Staff there played dolls with you while waiting on CPS to send someone for you. You used to cry when they tore you away from people like Myra. You—”
“All right,” she snapped. “You’ve made your point.”
“Aw, no. I’m just getting started.”
Although she didn’t think he could possibly get any closer to her, he crowded in. To keep from touching, she had to arch over the sink. “Get back.” She pushed against his chest with her left hand. “I don’t know what you think—”
“What I think is that you’re following in Daddy’s footsteps, upholding the family tradition.” He thumped the lid of the metal box tucked under her right arm. “What’s in the box?”
“You saw what was in it!”
“What I saw, what Rawlins and Wilson saw, was a dog-and-pony show performed by you and your partner in crime, the self-esteemed Dr. Lambert.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Hell you don’t. I was watching you. When Lambert said, ‘accommodate them,’ you looked like you’d swallowed a bug. You were as surprised as the three of us when Rawlins raised the lid and all we saw were tubes of blood. If that’s what they are.”
“That’s exactly what they are, and I wasn’t at all surprised.”
“Right, more like disbelieving, holding yourself together while Lambert dazzled us with bullshit.”
“Everything he said was scientifically sound.”
“Deliberately scientific. Intentionally over our heads. Meant to distract.”
“You’re delusional. How do you know what I was feeling, thinking? Are you a mind reader?”
“Lip reader.”
“What?”
“Cockpits can be noisy. I learned to read a copilot’s lips. Nine, four, three, two.” He placed his hands on his hips, thrust his face to within inches of hers, and repeated the numbers in a taunting whisper. “Nine, four, three, two.”
She braced her hands on the ledge of the sink behind her in order to keep her balance. “The lock.”
“The lock. I read your lips as you rolled each number into place. Missed the last one. What is it?”
He’d read her lips? That was almost as unsettling as him being only one digit short of knowing the combination to the padlock. His eyes were like magnets now, holding her in thrall.
But she looked away, turned her head aside, and tried to regain her equilibrium. “Would you give me some space, please?”
