Page 88 of The Librarians

Numb to the entire business. She, the perfect heiress, brought low by her very Instagrammable husband.

But now, in front of Conrad, she burns with shame. Not for Kit’s crimes but because she was so cavalier in her choice of mate. She had not cared enough to be more thorough in her scrutiny.

She had so easily accepted the narrative that it was time for her to get married and then said yes to the first man who looked and sounded the part.

“In case you wonder why Kit didn’t come to me or my family for help,” she said into her hands, “before we were married, my grandfather invited Kit to lunch, just the two of them. I never asked what was said at that meal, but I wouldn’t be surprised if my grandfather warned Kit not to fuck up and told him that as soon as he fucked up he’d be gone, swept out of my life like so much refuse.”

Her grandfather did not deal in idle threats. Kit would have understood that very well. But as with most such things, rules are made by people, and people’s minds can be persuaded to change. Her mother, through the independent and honorable life she led, had eventually changed her parents’ mind. Kit too could have bought himself grace, if he’d put in enough time and shown enough personal integrity.

But there wasn’t enough time, and Kit never had enough integrity.

Conrad is again silent.

She pushes against her knees and straightens her torso—when she would prefer to remain in a fetal position for the foreseeable future. “Do you believe me, that I had nothing to do with Perry’s death?”

Through the cotton twill of her cargo pants, her nails dig into her kneecaps.

He pulls something out of his pocket—not the cartridge, only his phone, which he taps, scrolls, and scrolls some more. Then he hands the phone to her. “I hope this is enough to show thatIhad nothing to do with Perry’s death.”

On the phone is his WhatsApp chat with Perry. Conrad has scrolled back to a date shortly before Kit’s death.

Conrad, are you there? I need help. Can you ring me asap?

She scrolls back a little more. The texts before that were from two months earlier, and concerned dinner plans. No mention of Kit, no sign of anything wrong.

She scrolls down. After Perry sent up the Bat-Signal, there is indeed a voice call forty minutes in duration. And then a video call that lasted fifteen minutes.

Like I said, typed Conrad afterward,transferring this much money overseas is going to be a bloody nightmare, much better I take over your loan. Confer with your banker as soon as possible tomorrow. I’ll see if I can fly in by the end of the week. Also, I’ll need to speak to your dad about that Picasso. I need collateral, too.

Oh God. My dad is going to have my hide.

Perry, you kissed your hide goodbye when you used the Picasso without permission. Go talk to your dad this minute.

Just did. I feel like rubbish.

I’d comfort you but at the moment I have more sympathy for him.

The few exchanges after that are Perry informing Conrad that he was already at the airport, waiting.

The day after,Hey, you looked out of sorts when we were looking at Kit’s wedding pics last night. Are you okay?

Hazel’s heart thunks. In his place, how wouldshehave felt?

Conrad’s reply?Jetlag.

This is certainly the exact answer she’d have given.

Perry messaged:Get some rest. Banker tomorrow morning and dinner with my dad in the evening.

A flurry of voice calls took place over the next few days and then,Bugger, Conrad. Kit’s dead. His plane went down.

Hazel braced herself for this moment. Still, she feels as if Kit’s plane plowed into her.

That text is followed by more voice calls and even a few video calls,which convey the intensity of the situation but offer her, an after-the-fact voyeur, no additional insight.

Until Perry texts, ten days after Kit’s death,I know you don’t want me to, but I have to go to Austin.

She looks up. “So whydidPerry have to come to Austin?”