Chapter 16: The Open Line

Kirk went to the cottage on Tuesday night, and I listened to all of it from my old bed.

He had asked for the phone call himself.

"Leave the line open," he said at the east gate that afternoon. "If it goes wrong, you'll know the minute it does."

"And if I hear something I can't stand?"

"Then you hang up, and I won't blame you."

At one in the morning my phone rang once and went quiet.

I put it under my pillow with the volume low and pressed my ear to the pillowcase.

I heard grass first, then a shutter, then three slow taps on a door.

The door opened.

"You're a persistent boy," Chadwick's voice said, soft and pleased. "Did you bring a bottle?"

"No."

"Pity. Richard's cellar is wasted on me. Sit down, Kirk."

A chair scraped.

"I won't sit," Kirk said. "I came to ask you one thing."

"Ask."

"Walk out of here with me on the night of the ball. Alive, in a suit, in front of everyone."

Chadwick laughed.

It was a warm laugh with real amusement in it, and it made the hair rise on my arms.

"Brother," he said. "I've been given a wine cellar, a library and a woman who brings me my dinner. Why would I give that up?"

"Because Camilla did five years for you."

"I know exactly how long she did. I kept track, too."

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