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I kneel down to examine the lock, twisting the pins to ready them as I do. It shouldn’t be too hard, and I wonder what I’ll find in the box. Caius made it seem like it was important enough to have a look, although part of me is afraid they’ll be pictures of the crime scene. I don’t think Santos would keep those though. Why have a reminder of how someone you loved was murdered?
Caius had mentioned pen pals. I am assuming I’m going to find letters between Santos and the girl, and there’s a part of me that wants to see those. I want to know the girl he loved so much he committed murder to avenge her death and set into motion what happened next.
I push the pins into place and begin to manipulate them. It’s been a while since I’ve done this, but it’s like riding a bike. You don’t forget once you’ve learned. A light touch is best.
But this lock is more sophisticated than the old ones on our bedroom doors at college. After a few minutes, when I still don’t have it, I hear my name. I don’t recognize the voice, but it’s a woman and she very clearly tells whoever is asking that she’ll take them up to my room.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I glance around, I’m not sure what for, but I hear more footsteps so I rush to the door and set my ear against it. I wait until the steps recede, and once it’s quiet, I open it a crack. I hear footsteps on the stairs and slip out of the study just as one of the staff comes around the corner. She stops, clearly surprised to see me, and I smile and head toward the kitchen like I was headed there all along.
My heart hammers. The staff is busy cooking when the woman who saw me in the hallway follows me inside.
“Can I help you, Mrs. Augustine?” she asks. “I believe you’re wanted upstairs.”
“Oh? I didn’t realize. I was coming down for a snack.”
“You didn’t pass them on the stairs?”
I clear my throat and I’m sure it’s obvious I’m lying.
“Dinner is in an hour,” she says, saving me from having to answer. “What would you like?”
“An hour? I can wait then. Who’s here to see me?”
“I’m not sure, ma’am. Perhaps you should go up.”
“Yes. Good idea. Thank you.” I walk out of the kitchen and hurry up the stairs to find two people standing in the open door of Santos’s bedroom.
“I thought she’d be here. I’m so sorry, Doctor,” the younger girl says.
“Are you looking for me?” I call out, pasting what I hope looks like a relaxed smile on my face.
“There you are,” the girl says.
“I’m Dr. Fairweather,” the doctor says, walking toward me and extending his hand. “Your husband sent me.”
I shake it. “He did? He didn’t mention…”
“No?”
“I mean, I’m fine. Dr. Cummings said he didn’t think I had a concussion so I’m not sure why Santos would have called you.”
“Oh, this isn’t for that,” he says, glancing at the girl who is hovering. “Perhaps we should step into the bedroom to talk privately?”
I nod. “Thank you,” I tell the girl and invite the doctor in.
“It’s a beautiful house, isn’t it?” he asks, looking around. “I remember this place from before it was abandoned. It was something else. It’s so good to see it’s been rebuilt with such care. It’s important to preserve our history. Avarice is a special place.” It’s a strange thing to say but I don’t comment as he sets his bag down and smiles at me.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know why you’re here.”
“Mr. Augustine has asked me to provide you with a birth control shot.”
It takes me a minute. “He what?”
“Is he here? Perhaps I’ve misunderstood.”
“No. No, you haven’t. I just didn’t realize he’d arranged for you to come all the way here,” I quickly make up, not wanting to miss the opportunity even though I’m wondering why he didn’t ask Dr. Cummings or just give me back my pills.
