Chapter 12: The Gala

Joanna's POV

"Every recording I have of Constance is in one folder," I told Hayes on the phone. "I'm coming."

"Not alone."

"Kendall's coming with me."

"Jo," Kendall said, from the chair. "I can't walk into that house."

"You can walk into it with me," I said. "You've done the hard part already."

She stood up with her blanket slipping off her shoulders.

It was twenty past eleven.

Hayes's truck was gone, so I took my father's old sedan from the shed road, and Kendall drove, because my hands would not stay still.

I read the folder as we went.

Constance in the car, on the open line.

Constance in the dining room, to Brandon.

Constance in August, saying something I had not caught the first time.

"If the girl talks, she has a tape. We have six."

Kendall made a small sound, and I put my hand on her knee.

The doorman let us in.

He had been told to let in a Mrs. Lathrop.

I had not told him which one.

Hayes was standing in the hall.

He took one look at Kendall's face and moved aside without speaking.

"Library," he said. "Brandon's alone. She went upstairs."

"How long?"

"Four minutes."

I walked in.

Brandon looked up from the laptop and began to get to his feet.

"Sit," I said.

He sat.

Kendall stood just inside the door, and I watched her go still.

I saw the sofa and the bourbon.

I saw Kendall press her arm over the ribs Brandon had bruised, and Brandon watched me see it.

"Joanna," he said. "You came."

"You told me midnight."

"I knew you'd see sense."

"Here's what I see."

I set my phone on the arm of the sofa.

I pressed play, and Constance's voice filled the library.

"If the girl talks, she has a tape. We have six."

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