Chapter 24: Breakfast

I woke on the attic floor with a man's elbow in my ribs and sun on the quilt.

Cormick was asleep on his back with one arm over his face.

His feet were against the wall.

I watched him for a while.

He looked younger asleep. The scar through his eyebrow was only a line.

Then I got up, found his shirt on the boxes, and put it on.

The house smelled of coffee.

I came down the back stairs barefoot, with my hair a wreck, and followed the smell to the dining room.

The long table was set for four.

The housekeeper stood at the sideboard in her work apron, laying out toast and a bowl of eggs.

She looked at the shirt, and at me, and said nothing, with great dignity.

Pierce sat at the far end with a mug in both hands.

He had a newspaper folded under his elbow.

"Morning," he said.

"Morning."

"Dad's lawyer called. Twice. I didn't pick up."

"Good."

"The paper has Russell on page three."

He slid it across the cloth.

"Colette's name is in the second paragraph. They want her at the district attorney's again on Thursday."

I looked at the photograph.

Russell was being led into a courthouse, looking at his shoes.

I turned the paper over, face down.

"Eat something," I said. "You look like you haven't since September."

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