Page 115 of Sharp Force

I don’t see rare art, nothing on the walls, and the furniture is old but not grand like the antiques she had in Charlottesville. A bookcase is double shelved with out-of-date psychiatric, legal and other professional tomes. She has books on philosophy, sociology and woke culture.

We follow the hallway to the main bedroom, and it would have a fabulous view of the river were the drapes not drawn. I duck inside the bathroom, detecting the faint scent of potpourri in a dish on top of the toilet. Making my usual inspection of cupboards and the medicine cabinet, I find nothing of consequence.

Everything I see is cheap or drearily antiquated, and I’mconstantly reminded that Georgine had no money, only what Calvin Willard gave her. I can only imagine how bad that must have made her feel. I suspect that after a while he whittled away any self-respect she had.

Across from her bedroom is a guestroom big enough for a twin bed and a dresser. I open the closet, men’s shirts, several jackets and pairs of pants hanging. On the floor are sneakers and cowboy boots. In a drawer are William & Mary sweatshirts and T-shirts, and socks and boxer shorts.

“Where Zain stayed when he was here,” I gather.

“The poor kid never stood a chance,” Benton says. “She and his uncle emotionally hobbled him forever. For all practical purposes, he was their hostage.”

We return to the living area, focused on a row of low metal filing cabinets lining the wall on either side of the desk. I count eleven of them, my heart sinking. I don’t know what I’m looking for, having little idea where to begin.

“Nothing to do but open one drawer after the other, seeing what’s inside,” I tell Benton.

“Let’s just hope she has actual names on files and not cryptic numbers,” he says.

“Georgine didn’t strike me as cryptic,” I reply. “She also wasn’t careful. Not about her security or her finances. Not to mention whatever she had going on with Graden Crowley and Calvin Willard.”

The house is warming up fast, and we take off our jackets. Benton starts with one end of the cabinets while I work the other, opening a drawer, the creamy files tightly packed inside. They’re labeled with names penned in Georgine’s generous scrawl, last name first.

I look for the obvious, starting with W and finding nothing for Willard.

“Dammit.” I tell Benton what’s not here. “I’ll check forZainjust in case.”

I walk my fingers through that drawer, having no better luck.

“What else might it be under?” I wonder.

“Unless she has it hidden somewhere,” Benton supposes. “Which would make sense considering who his uncle is.”

The front door opens, and Hank is here with our food and drinks. He sets bags and a cup carrier on the coffee table out of the way of the piles we’re perusing.

“Enjoy,” he says, leaving as abruptly as he appeared.

The food smells delicious, and we unwrap everything, eating as we work.

“Confirm for me how Zain is related to Calvin Willard?” I tear open a packet of ketchup.

“His mother is Calvin’s sister.” Benton devours a chicken finger.

“Then her family name is Willard,” I reply.

“Correct.” Benton has pulled a file and is flipping through it, sipping iced tea through a straw.

“Then why is Zain’s last name Willard?” I eat several French fries. “Who was his father?”

“Let me check the background report.” Benton sets the open file on top of a cabinet.

He searches his phone for the results of an investigation that qualified Zain to work in the White House. And I don’t understand that like so many things.

“How is it that his psychiatric issues never came up? How could he keep his cutting and other problems from everyone?” I wipe my hands with a napkin.

“I think you heard it for yourself. Calvin Willard has made sure everything was off the radar. And if people knew anything, he’s made sure they don’t talk.” Benton is scrolling through the report on his phone. “He’s done everything in his power to protect his nephew.”

“In the end, he did nobody any favors,” I reply. “And it’s really not about Zain. It’s about his uncle’s ambitions.”

“Soble,” Benton says. “Zain’s father was Frederick Soble, the mother Marta Willard, her married name Soble. And it appears that after the father died, Zain legally changed his name to Willard.”