Chapter 3: The Ring on His Hand
Vincent Caruso opened the door before I could lock it.
He had been my closest friend since we were fifteen, and my daughters had called him Uncle Vincent from the day they learned to speak.
“There you are,” he said.
“Why is everyone hiding in the library?”
His right hand rested against the doorframe.
The blue stone ring was on his smallest finger.
Nora buried her face against my leg.
Sophie backed into Grace, while Olivia stared at Vincent’s hand as though it were a snake.
Vincent noticed.
“What happened to them?”
“You tell me.”
His smile remained, but his hand dropped into his pocket.
“I don’t understand.”
“Take out your hand.”
“Dominic—”
“Take it out.”
Vincent slowly showed me both hands.
The ring caught the light from the window, and Sophie made a frightened sound.
“It’s only a ring,” he said.
“Your father gave it to me.”
“My father gave you a plain gold ring.”
Vincent looked down at the blue stone.
“I had it reset.”
“When?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“The kind you answer.”
Grace moved the girls toward the window seat.
Vincent’s eyes followed her, and the easy smile disappeared.
“You’re the new maid.”
“My name is Grace Bennett.”
“I know your name.”
Grace stopped moving.
“You said you had never met me.”
“I said I knew your name.
Mrs.
Donnelly keeps employment records.”
“You saw me at the east gate this morning,” Grace said.
“You told me to stay away from the library.”
Vincent gave a short laugh.
“I asked why a housekeeper was wandering around private rooms.”
“You grabbed my wrist.”
“Careful.”
Grace pulled back her sleeve.
Four dark marks circled her skin.
Olivia gasped.
“He hurt you.”
Vincent’s face changed at the sound of her voice.
“You’re speaking again.”
“Don’t look at her,” I said.
He raised his hands.
“Dominic, your children have been through something terrible.
You cannot treat a frightened child’s memory like sworn testimony.”
Sophie pointed at him.
“You were in the car.”
“I was at the hospital that morning.”
“You weren’t,” Olivia said.
“Mommy told you to leave us alone.”
Vincent looked at me.
“They’re confused.”
“All three of them?”
“They were babies.”
“They remember your ring.”
“A thousand men own blue rings.”
“Not a thousand men they call Uncle.”
His jaw tightened.
Then he reached inside his jacket.
Grace pulled the girls down, and I caught Vincent’s wrist before his hand cleared the fabric.
“Easy,” he whispered.
“It’s my phone.”
I removed it myself.
The screen displayed the mansion’s security system.
“You have access to my cameras?”
“You gave it to me after Isabelle was kjlled.”
“I gave you emergency access.”
“And I used it because your east gate alarm failed.”
Grace leaned over the screen.
“That isn’t the gate.”
A progress bar moved beneath the words LIBRARY ARCHIVE.
Deleting: 83%.
I shoved Vincent against the shelves and pressed Cancel, but the number climbed to ninety-one.
“What are you erasing?”
“Nothing.
The system is corrupt.”
“Give me the password.”
“I don’t know it.”
“It’s your phone.”
“It’s your house.”
The progress bar reached one hundred.
ARCHIVE DELETED.
Vincent straightened his jacket.
“Now you have frightened your daughters over a technical fault.
Isabelle would be ashamed of you.”
Olivia stepped between us, shaking.
“Mommy was afraid of you.”
Vincent’s face emptied.
Mrs.
Donnelly appeared at the open door carrying a silver tray.
One cup slipped from its saucer when she saw the photograph in my hand.
“Where did you find that?”
“You’ve seen it before?” I asked.
Her eyes moved from Vincent’s ring to the children.
“I put it in the wall for Isabelle.”
Vincent turned toward her.
“You should have stayed retired, Margaret.”
Mrs.
Donnelly’s tray crashed to the floor.
No one looked at the broken china.
May you like
The children were staring at the man they called Uncle, but Vincent was staring at Mrs.
Donnelly as if she had just become the greatest threat in the house.
