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I head down the stairs and from the front window, I see the SOLD sign still on the front lawn. I walk toward Hart’s study.
Several years after we’d moved in next door, anenvelope had been delivered to the Fox house. Mom usually handled sorting the mail, but Sly happened to be standing there when the mailman came. I remember Sly reading the front of the envelope and opening it, ignoring me entirely as if I was invisible even as I stood in the same room fixing the window.
He’d pulled out whatever was inside, and I still remember his sucking in of breath before a wide smile spread across his face. He’d walked into his office and left the door open as he took photos of each page of whatever was inside. Arrogant move but not unlike him. He’d tucked it all back into the envelope then and called out to me, the look on his face not of one who’d been caught, but one of satisfaction, almost. Or something darker.
“Take this to the Harts. Make sure you hand it to Horatio directly. No one else, got it?”
I took the envelope from him, glanced at the front to see it was addressed to Horatio although the address was the Fox address.
“You opened it?”
“Accidentally,” he said with that grin that showed all his teeth. “Let him know, will you?”
There was something in his tone that made my skin crawl. But he just turned back into his office and slammed the door shut in my face. I walked that envelope over and rang the Harts’ doorbell. Ophelia had answered, and if it’d been Tonia, I don’t think she’d have walked me straight to Hart’s study and openedthe door without knocking. I wonder if she’d found it strange to see her father on his knees fumbling with something, but when Ophelia threw the door open, he looked like a guilty man.
He caught my eye, knew I’d seen what he was doing, but he schooled his features quickly. He’d straightened the carpet and stood, muttering some excuse about spilling coffee all while Ophelia filled the moment with some rambling story about school.
Hart had turned to me, and when I handed him the envelope, he looked at it, then at me.
“Fox wanted you to know he opened it accidentally,” I said, knowing exactly how it sounded. Back then, as far as I was concerned, Horatio Hart and Sly Fox had too much in common for one to be any better than the other.
I still remember how Horatio’s face had lost its color. How he’d glanced into the kitchen where Ophelia was climbing up on a stool and chattering away to Tonia. Horatio didn’t even thank me before he’d closed the door, this time locking it behind him.
If I think back, the relationship between Horatio and Sly had been strained by then.
Now, I walk into that office, where the desk is gone. It was an antique and I imagine paid at least in part for his lawyer who ultimately wasn’t worth his salary, considering. The carpet is rolled up and standing against a corner. I remember the exact spot Hart had been when we’d barged in on him, and as I kneel, Itake out my phone and switch on the flashlight to peer closely at the floorboards. I run my fingers over the old wood, feeling the uneven texture of it. They are beautiful, old floors. It takes me a few minutes, but I find the spot because a part of one of the floorboards is damaged, something you’d only see if you were looking this closely at it. It’s a very thin space between two boards where the wood is lighter.
I reach into my pocket to take out my keys. I have a Swiss Army knife on my keychain. I flip the small nail file and slide it into the divot. It fits almost perfectly, and with just a little finagling, I lift out the board.
And there, hidden beneath it, is a lock box.
17
OPHELIA
Ethan spins me on the dance floor. His face is stone, and he’s barely said two words to me all night.
The gala is being held in the grand ballroom of The Sinistral. I remember the first few years the Foxes held the event. Back then, it had been small enough that they hosted at their home. But the guest list has grown exponentially, and the Sinistral ballroom is bursting at the seams to hold everyone now.
We haven’t spoken again about my breaking off our engagement, and his parents haven’t said anything to me about it. I know he told them, though. I heard the shouting coming from Mr. Fox’s study, and Ethan’s been cooler to me since. Mira also. Mr. Fox had had some meeting in town, so I haven’t seen him yet. I’m in no rush to run into him either.
When I suggested I stay at a hotel, though, Ethanoutright disagreed, and I told myself I’m choosing my battles. After tonight is over, I’ll head back to Boston. I’ll pack up the apartment and figure out my next steps then.
I look over Ethan’s shoulder, scanning the masked faces. I used to love the masks. At first, when I wasn’t sure why it was a masked ball at Christmastime, Ethan had told me how his mother had fallen in love with Carnival, an annual Venetian tradition, although it didn’t take place at Christmas. She’d attended some exclusive gala at a palace and wanted to bring that same sense of opulence and European intrigue to Sinistral.
Ethan squeezes my waist, tugs me closer a little more tightly than I expect.
I wince, meeting his eyes through the mask covering half his face.
“At least try to pretend you want to be here. Can you do that?”
“I don’t want to be here, Ethan. I told you?—"
“Are you looking for him?”
“No. Why would I be?”
“Right. You just gave yourself away, you know.”
