Chapter 6: What He Paid For

I didn't put it down.

I held the folder against my chest with both arms.

"Goldie," I said. "Let her go."

Goldie let go of Delphine's wrist.

"Delphine," Desmond said, without looking at her. "Go to the kitchen."

"Des..."

"Go."

She went.

He came into the study and shut the door behind him. He didn't come any closer.

"You knew," I said.

"Sit down."

"I'm not your guest. You knew."

He took a long breath. He looked at the window instead of me.

"I was in the building that night. For the foundation. I saw her come out the stage door with her hand burned. She was screaming."

"And you put her in your car."

"I took her to the hospital."

"And then you paid somebody to call it electrical."

He didn't answer for a long time.

The rain ran down the glass behind him.

"My family gave the department a truck," he said finally. "I asked my father to make a call. That's all it took. One call."

"One call."

"She was twenty-two. She'd made one terrible mistake."

"I was twenty-two."

"I know how old you were."

His voice cracked on it. Just a little. It was the first crack I'd ever heard in it.

I looked at his left wrist.

The beads were back on it, wrapped three times. A hundred and eight dark sandalwood beads on a new black string.

"There was a ring on those," I said.

He touched the beads with his thumb.

"There was."

"You wore the proof against her on your wrist for seven years. Why?"

"So I'd never forget what I owed."

"Owed who? Her?"

"You."

He finally looked at me.

"I came to the burn unit every day because I owed you. I took you home because I owed you. I paid for everything because I owed you."

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