Chapter 12: The Necklace

I smiled back at her.

It was the hardest piece of acting I'd done in seven years.

"It suits you," I said.

She laughed, pleased, and went to find her mark.

I walked into the wings, took out my phone and texted Briggs with my thumb shaking.

She's wearing it. On a chain. Bring the detective. Row F. We run the fight in an hour.

Three dots. Then:

On my way.

The Sterling's house was dark except for the work lights.

The director sat in the middle of row E with her legal pad.

The stage manager was at her desk in the aisle with a little lamp.

The foundation's lawyer sat by himself on the far side, in his gray suit, checking his phone.

He came to every run now.

He called it "protecting the investment."

Forty minutes later the back door opened.

Briggs came down the side aisle in his navy jacket.

Behind him came a woman in her forties with a gray raincoat and a badge on her belt.

They sat in row F, right behind the director.

The detective folded her hands in her lap and watched the stage.

Delphine saw them. I watched her see them.

She touched the ring at her throat.

Then she lifted her chin and smiled out into the dark.

She thought they'd come for me.

"Places for the third act," called the stage manager.

The kitchen set was half built. A table, two chairs, a painted window with no glass.

The prop necklace with the breakaway clasp was lying on the table where it was supposed to be.

Delphine walked right past it.

She'd decided to wear her own.

We started the fight.

I'd played it once. Now it was ours.

Every line she threw, I caught and threw back harder. I didn't look at the ring. Not once.

By the second page the man who played our father had come out into the wings to watch.

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