Chapter 11: The Loft

Dee took Beckett back to town before sunrise.

"He has an eight o'clock," she said at the door. "He's going to act normal in the chat and tell us everything Santino says."

"I'm very bad at acting normal," Beckett said.

"You'll be great. Be forgettable."

I put the sapphire ring back in its velvet box and the box back in the frozen peas.

If it was gone from the freezer, Santino would know.

I wanted him to open that bag on Friday, in front of everyone, and find it exactly where he left it.

The car lights went down the lane.

The kitchen went quiet, and the sign went on humming.

Rowan stood at the counter with his arms folded and didn't look at me.

"We could unplug that," he said.

"Nothing in this house moves until Friday."

"You said that."

"I know what I said."

He nodded slowly.

"Then I should go home," he said. "It's four in the morning. You've been crying, and he took your grandmother's ring."

"Rowan."

"You're not in a state to..."

"I'm in a state to know what I want," I said.

"I've known since Wednesday, on a cold floor, with your hand over my mouth."

He looked up.

"Nothing in this house moves," I said. "So we won't use the house."

His jaw worked.

"The loft's got a space heater," he said.

"I know. I turned it on myself."

We crossed the yard in the dark with the frost loud under our shoes.

I went up the ladder first.

The loft was warm, and orange from the heater, and it smelled of cedar.

He came up behind me and stopped at the top, and I turned around and took the front of his jacket in both hands.

"Last chance," he said. "Tell me to go home."

"Stay," I said, and kissed him.

He made a low sound against my mouth and lifted me onto the cot.

His hands went to my sweater.

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