Chapter 10: Dawn at the Kitchen Table

Vera was sitting at the kitchen table when I came in from the cold.

She wore her cream robe, and her hair was in its loose knot.

She had set out two mugs and a plate of dry crackers.

Her own mug held hot water and a slice of lemon.

"Good morning," she said warmly. "I made you a coffee. Sit."

On the walk across the grass I had started the voice memo and slid the phone into my coat pocket.

Now I sat down in my green dress with my coat over it and put my hands around the mug.

"Where's Winston?" she asked.

"Showering."

"Good. I wanted you alone."

She slid her phone across the table, face up.

A video started on its own.

It was the boathouse window, filmed from the dock in the dark.

Through the glass there was a yellow glow, and inside the glow a bare back and a woman's hand in a man's hair.

The sound was off. It didn't need sound.

I watched it to the end, and then I looked at her.

"Melina filmed it," Vera said gently. "From the dock window. She cried the whole time, poor thing. I didn't want to put her through that."

"But you did."

"Oh, Sig. I'm not the villain here."

She put her hand over mine.

"Rule one. For twenty-four hours, in every way. You did exactly what the game said."