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“Do you think she’ll flip on her sister that easily?”
“Something tells me Charlene hates her sister. I also think A’s held something over her their whole lives. Maybe that was true with everyone, including Pharaoh and Xavier. Even if she doesn’t have something to hold over Charlene, think about it—she’s in her mid-fifties and works in a restaurant with her mother. That in itself would be depressing, wouldn’t it? And she lost her husband.”
“What about Francesca? Do you think she believes her oldest daughter is dead?” I asked.
“Out of all the possibilities, that’s the most likely.”
I opened my laptop and pulled up the image of Salvatore, Godwin, Schmid, and the woman I’d known as Mrs. Strousberg. I studied her in particular.
When I first met her, I was a damaged fourteen-year-old girl who had lost her parents and rebelled against the man and woman who had agreed to be my guardians. I’d gone through puberty, starting when I was nine, and by the time I arrived at the boarding school in Leysin, I was wearing a double-D-cup bra.
Based on when Francesca said she gave birth to her oldest daughter, A would’ve been in her mid-forties. I vividly remembered how beautiful I thought she was. Like me, it was evident she had large breasts, but the way she dressed minimized their prominence. She had long blonde hair, also like me.
“Do you recall how old Salvatore Rávdos was when he died?” I asked Magnet.
“No, but if I use your crib notes, I can find it quickly.” He pulled out his phone. “Here it is. He was fifty-one. So you remember birth dates but not death dates?”
“Sometimes, I remember both. Anyway, based on that, he was still alive when I first met A.”
“What are you thinking?”
“Nothing in particular. Profiling her, I guess. I remember her being noticeably beautiful.” I told him she would’ve been forty-six at the time. “I wonder how it all happened. Did Salvatore holiday on Gozo, meet Francesca’s oldest daughter, and whisk her away to a life of luxury and crime? According to O’s briefs, her father began investigating Rávdos when she was eleven, which means ‘Cronos’ would’ve been forty-five at the time.”
Magnet was looking at me with his mouth open.
“What?”
“How do you remember all that?”
I shrugged a shoulder. “I just do. So, back to Cronos being forty-five. Oleander’s brief also said her father had been investigating the man responsible for the largest human trafficking ring in the world at that time. He couldn’t have amassed something so big by that age.”
“Which means he was probably a second-generational trafficker. Or more.”
I shuddered. “It makes my skin crawl.”
“Mine too.”
I closed my eyes and rested my head against the seat, wishing I could drive A’s image out of my head. “The more I think about her, the more I remember how uncomfortable she made me feel. It was almost as though she was sizing me up. She probably was. Trying to figure out how many thousands of dollars she’d get for me.”
“Please don’t say that.”
I raised my brows. “It’s probably true, Magnet.”
“Whether it is or not, the image that appears in my mind when I think about it, incites enough rage for me to rip this plane apart.”
“Okay. Let’s change the subject.”
“To? More about Rávdos and the woman we think was his wife? I’d rather not talk about them right now.”
“Me either.”
“So what besides them is running through that beautiful brain of yours?”
“I think I know why Xavier killed Mithras. Is that talking about them?” I asked.
“Yes, but not really. I’m curious to hear your theory.”
“Mithras was a year older than Pharaoh, who was twelve years older than Xavier.”