Chapter 10: Beckett's Wire

Beckett's POV

I walked into my brother's office at half past one.

I had meant to arrive angry.

I hadn't managed it.

Every time I got close to the feeling, my mind went back to a kitchen counter and a girl in my hoodie.

Ashworth Freight took up the top four floors of a gray tower downtown.

Rowan's assistant had gone to lunch, and his door was open an inch.

"She reports at two," I heard him say.

I stopped in the hall.

"Yes, ten thousand a week. It's in the ledger. No, he doesn't know."

Then he laughed, a short dry sound I had not heard from him in two years.

I put my hand flat on the wall.

He means Abby, I thought.

I pushed the door open a few more inches and saw him standing at the window with his phone to his ear and his back to me.

His desk was clear, except for the little black notebook he never let anyone touch.

It lay open.

I read it upside down, because I could read my brother's handwriting before I could read my own.

CURRY, J. Fifty dollars, 20 min, plus ten tip. Retainer, 100K. Weekly: 10K. Confidentiality: 2K.

Under that, a list of dates, and beside each date, a line from her texts, copied in his square hand.

He bought forty teas. He is eating vegetables.

He fell asleep on a bench in the quad. He seems tired.

He is happy. I think. Ask me next week.

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