The Unkindness of Ravens by M. Hilliard (readera ebook reader .txt) 📗

later I found him. I stepped into the deserted conference room and waited for my eyes to adjust to the dim light. Ian spoke out of the darkness.

“Looking for me?”

He was packing up the presentation, his standard gin and tonic on the table. He walked over, standing a little too close. He’d had more than one drink.

“Dan can’t make it. He wants you to call,” I said.

“I just tried him. Direct to voicemail.”

“He must be on the subway.”

“What’s it about? This problem?” he asked.

“Confidential.”

Ian reached over and closed the door.

“No. I mean I don’t know, I can’t tell you anything.”

He frowned and took a deep breath. He glanced away. Then back.

“You’ve changed your perfume, Greer.”

“It’s been fifteen years. I’ve changed a lot of things.”

“But you’re still so pretty.”

He moved closer. I stood my ground. I could see the faint lines around his blue eyes, the slight silvering of his red hair. He was still handsome. He brushed my hair away from my face. I turned my head. I felt his lips on my neck, the worn denim of his jeans against my bare knee, and the cool conference table behind me.

“Haven’t you ever thought about it, Greer? If we were both free?”

Sixty blocks uptown, someone was murdering my husband.

“So, there you have it,” I said to Jennie, “my dirty little secret. The only time I’ve ever cheated, and Danny dies.”

“A kiss? A conversation? Not exactly cheating.”

“It felt like it. It was—emotional infidelity? I don’t know. I’d thought about it. Was thinking about it. And then when I got home—”

“You didn’t make it happen, Greer. It was coincidence. Bad luck.”

“I know. It’s just—I know. Danny was supposed to be there. I never went to these things.”

“Why did you go this time?”

There was no judgement in her voice, only curiosity.

“I wanted to see him. To see if he was sorry he dumped me all those years ago. To make him sorry. It was ego, pure and simple.”

“It’s never simple. There’s always something more.”

“I don’t know. Anger, boredom, too many drinks.”

“Or fear, uncertainty, too many drinks. The usual suspects,” she said. She sighed. “Alcohol and ex-boyfriends. Never a good thing.”

That last bit was delivered with real feeling. I raised my eyebrows. She looked at her notes.

So much for an exchange of girlish confidences.

“It wasn’t your fault your husband died,” she said. “It could have been you, if you got home first, or even both of you, if the guy was high or desperate.”

I shook my head. That didn’t feel right.

She shrugged.

“I can see why you wanted to keep it quiet, though,” she went on, “and why you felt so bad. It could’ve looked worse than it was to some people.

“Yes. I felt terrible, I still do. At the time, I worked for some very conservative people. But they’re nothing compared to a small-town library board of trustees. When I found Joanna’s body all I could think about was keeping my secrets. I wanted to deflect attention. Just like when I found Danny.”

“And now?”

“Now I think there’s a whole lot more to all of this than I ever realized. I wish I’d paid more attention.”

“Hindsight but I agree with you.”

She fanned out the papers once more and shook her head.

“There must be a connection between all these things she was looking into and her death, but I can’t see how it all links.”

“Neither can I, but I requested copies of all the articles listed. They’re coming from the state library. They should be here tomorrow.”

“Call me as soon as you get them. Any way to make sure no one else sees them arrive?”

“I get stuff from other libraries all the time. It won’t get a second look. Circ just hands the stuff off to me.”

“Good.”

“There are some other things, odd things, but I think they’re important.”

I told her about my conversation with Sadie, and that Jack had seen a similar apparition, both of them more than once. I told her about every overheard conversation, pointed question, and mysterious noise. I told her everything I could think of, no matter how strange. I was relieved when she took it all seriously.

“Some of that is odd, but it doesn’t mean it isn’t real, or important.”

“So, you believe us?”

“I believe all of you saw and heard these things that made you take notice. I believe in instinct. If something sets off an alarm bell in your head, you need to pay attention. Instinct is what keeps you alive.”

Her tone was grim. I thought about her time in Iraq. I believed in instinct, too, but my life had never been on the line. Until now.

Jennie seemed to be lost in thought. She rubbed her arms and I saw goosebumps.

“I’m sorry. I forgot you’re sitting here in damp clothes. Come with me.”

“I’m okay. It was just a little rain.”

I stood and headed to the bedroom, calling over my shoulder, “If you’re planning on staying all night, or what’s left of it, you’ll put on dry clothes. We can hang yours by the radiator to dry.”

God, I sounded like my mother. But Jennie had fished me out of ditch and sat here listening to me, so I was going to make sure she was comfortable.

By the time she arrived in the bedroom, I had pulled a clean white tee and a blue cashmere hoodie out of my dresser. I tossed them to her and rummaged through my basket of clean laundry. When I turned back to her, she was holding the shirt and sweater to her nose. She caught my eye and flushed. It was a glimpse of a younger, less assured Jennie Webber.

“They are clean,” I said.

“I know. It’s just that I got a whiff of something—I don’t know. They smell like—like you look.”

“How’s that?”

She shrugged. “Sophisticated. Expensive.”

“Ah.” I handed her a pair of fleece sweats, then moved to my vanity and picked through a basket of cosmetic samples. She reached past me and pointed.

“That’s beautiful,” she said.

I glanced at the intricate Venetian carnival mask hanging from the mirror