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I think about the tracker on her cellphone. The way it alerts me every time she picks up the device. The way a mirror of every message she sends or receives arrives on my phone. I throttled her data speed and blocked apps.

Nothing is getting past me. I have nothing to worry about. Still, when I get back to the car, I ask Victor to keep digging for more information anyway.

Chapter 14

Happy Birthday

ADONIS

“Were you allowed to develop a personality or is this as good as it gets?”

Victor’s amused cough can be heard all the way from the kitchen and there’s pride in the tilt of Delilah’s lips.

“I didn’t realize I needed to entertain you, Ms. Rose. My apologies.”

“I’m just saying if you’re gonna force me to have dinner with you every night, it would be nice if you were interesting.” She drops her fork with a loud clatter before shoving her hair away from her face. “Titus is more enticing than you and he sleeps more than three quarters of his days away.”

After a week of the silent treatment from her, I can’t tell which is worse: the silence or the way she antagonizes me every time she opens her damn mouth.

“Do you sit around all day and think of what insults you’re going to say when I get home?”

She cocks her head, a feigned confusion settling over her features. “Of course not. No brainstorming required. The words just flow naturally whenever I look at you.”

My eyes slide over her plate. The herbed turkey and Parmesan meatballs and gravy is untouched although half of her sides are gone. “Eat your food, Ms. Rose.”

“I’m done.” She pushes the plate away from her. “I don’t like wet food.”

“You could have told Agnes to make you something else before she left for the day.”

“It’s ok. I’m satisfied.”Lie number one.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask Victor to find her something else to eat, but I force the command back down.

If she’s hungry, she can speak up like the adult she is. Since when do I anticipate anybody’s needs outside of my own?

Delilah’s exhale kisses the quiet between us, pulling my eyes from her wine glass to the fingers now rubbing softly at her temple.

“Are you an only child?” she wants to know.

Nodding, I cock my head. “Yes. Why?”

“I can tell,” Delilah rebuts on a whisper, her voice far off. She isn’t here. Not really. And all I want to do is crawl inside her head and understand where she went.

She doesn’t look up from the stem of her wine glass, twirling her fingertips round and round until I fill the silence with a question.

“What did you do today?”

I know she spent six hours on her phone, taking G.E.D practice tests and not much else. But I want to hear her version of it.

And I still want to know why she has a headache every day. The first few days after she woke up, I thought it was normal. But every time I check the cameras around the house, I find her in one frame or another, holding a cold glass to her temple or rubbing mindlessly at her forehead. Like the pain is a part of her daily routine.

“Just watched YouTube,” she finally answers my question with a shrug. The lie claims her lips so easily I would have believed it if I didn’t know the truth.

Lie number two.

Keeping the frown off my face, I drop my fork to study her.

Her short hair is curled in loose ringlets, tucked strategically behind her ears and gifting me with the view of her soft features.