Page 53

He said nothing.

I said, “You know, I’m not the one who said you should resign. That’s all her. I never said that.”

“I know.”

“I-I don’t even think that.” Although I undoubtedly had at one point. “You’rethe one who realized Astrid’s death wasn’t suicide. You kept digging after the case was closed. You’re the one who figured out Malcolm’s role in…” I couldn’t finish it because that disaster was still in motion.

Twenty million dollars? I didn’t even fully understand what that meant. Would Bredahl be able to survive that kind of blood loss? Maybe selling the bakery wasn’t even my choice anymore.

“Astrid would still be alive if I hadn’t fucked up.”

I didn’t know what to say. There was probably some difficult truth in it. But why would one person, frankly, the smallest link in the chain of command, have to pay the biggest price for the mistakes that had been made?

“I’m telling you, that’s not what I want. Your resignation. I don’t want that.”

He let out a breath, said, “Thanks. But…”

No thanks?

“Raleigh, I’d barely been out of jail forty-eight hours when I talked to Matilda. I was still…shattered. If I were to give that interview today, I would have kept—I wouldn’t say—I don’t even feel the same way. Not about everything.”

By now we had reached the drive to the estate. Raleigh turned off the little side road that led to the Gingerbread House, his headlights sweeping the snowy shrubs and bushes, catching a birdbath in the spotlight, highlighting the little cottage. I’d left the lights on, and it looked warm and welcoming.

I felt a rush of fear that if we left things like this, there would not be any going back.

I did my best to sound calm. “So, what happens now?”

He said with equal calm, “Tomorrow I hand over everything I have on the case and request that a warrant be issued for Malcolm’s arrest. With Brigid’s testimony and the evidence she preserved, we can definitely hold him on the embezzlement charge. And I don’t think it’s going to be difficult proving his involvement in both Peyton and Astrid’s deaths.” He glanced at me. “I’ll push for an emergency warrant, but in the meantime, I’d continue to avoid any alone time with him.”

“Sure. Okay.”

He threw me a quick look. “There’s not much point in his coming after you. He’s not stupid. He knows everything is already in motion.”

Oh, yes. Malcolm knew things were in motion.

I said stiffly, “So that’s it? You’re done?”

“I’m done. Yeah.” He pulled up behind the cottage, but did not turn the engine off.

My voice shook a little as I said, “I thought we were going to talk tonight?”

He didn’t look at me, but I saw his profile smile in self-mockery. “I think you had it right, Caz. There isn’t a lot left to say. Even if you wanted to forgive me, I think that article makes clear, you’d never be able to. Not really. There are things there’s no going back from. This is one of them.”

I made a sound that came out like amusement, but was just the opposite. I wasn’t going to sit there and cry, though. I knew from excruciating experience, once Raleigh made his mind up, it was like trying to flag down a bullet train. I opened the passenger side door. “Okay. Well. Thanks for the ride.”

He said gruffly, “I’m sorry, Caz. For all of it.”

“So you said.” I slammed shut the door.

I heard the SUV reverse and start back down the road as I walked cautiously up the icy path. In the distance the hounds were howling mournfully. I went through the little gate. The porch light prismed through the tears I was blinking back. I was trying to drum up a little anger, but I just felt numb.

I unlocked the front door, thinking about Raleigh’s advice to steer clear of Malcolm. Since the locksmith was not going to be able to come out before Christmas, maybe I’d be smart to throw some things in a carryall and spend the next few days at a hotel in the next county. I really didn’t think I’d be able to take Christmas dinner with Malcolm, even if I wasn’t concerned he might slip hallucinogens in my food.

I pushed open the door, stepped inside and stared across the room as Malcolm rose from the sofa. He was holding a Henry Big Boy X Lever Action Centerfire Rifle, which he aimed straight at me.

It was a shock, but it felt faraway, distant. I’d had so many shocks lately, I was getting used to them.

“Come in and lock the door behind you.” Malcolm sounded composed, but his eyes were like two black holes in his face.