Page 118 of Old Money

I shake my head rapidly.

“What?” he says, stopping in the door. “What is it? Alice, Ihave—”

“I have the report, Jamie.” I hold up the binder. “They’re in here.”

His eyes widen and he grasps the door frame.

“It’s not—” I look back at the report once more. “I can’t believe it.”

“What?” says Jamie softly. “What does it say?”

I walk to the doorway and thrust the binder at him, my hands still shaking. When he takes it, his start trembling too.

I watch him read it. And read it again. His brow furrows, he peers closer and then he looks up at me.

“It doesn’t say his name.”

I shake my head, affirming. The incident report—the only key evidence left, as far as we know—does not say Patrick Yates’s name anywhere. It’s damning in every way except the one that matters most. It says she was attacked and killed—it even says the killer pursued her. But it doesn’t say his name.

“Also, see there’s a parenthetical beside everyone else?” I murmur, pointing. “ ‘Daughter of member,’ ‘non-member guest’? There isn’t one for him.”

“Yeah. It just calls him a young—”

“Ahem.”

We both freeze at the sound. I look up at Jamie’s pale, frightened face. Then we both turn toward the lobby, where Mr. Brody stands, hands folded in front of him, taut as a plucked piano string.

“What?” I call, my voice high and warbling. “What does it matter?”

Brody inhales, fury humming off him. I hold my ground.

“Alice,” Jamie breathes. He bends his head and turns his face away from Mr. Brody’s glare.

“No!” I snap, still facing Brody. “It makes no difference. All it proves is he’s a coward.”

Mr. Brody slowly crosses the carpet.

“My keys,” he says to Jamie, his eyes still on mine, motionless and wide.

Without a word, Jamie fumbles in his pocket, fishes out the keys and drops them into Mr. Brody’s hand.

“I’ll leave you to finish this up then.” Mr. Brody nods. “Looks like you’re just about done here.”

He turns his back on us and crosses the lobby, resuming his swift, silent pace.

“Jesus,” Jamie exhales. “You really said that.”

“Yeah. It feltgreat.”

I take the binder out of Jamie’s arms.

“So much for the big break-in. Sorry you dragged all that booze downstairs.”

Jamie nods absently. He looks out into the lobby.

“Hey.” I wave for his attention. “You have to get back out there.”

“Huh?” He turns back, still shaken. “Right.”