Page 68 of The Golden Hour
“Yes.” She blinks hard, eyes reddening. “I’m not saying I think you’ll succeed, but if you do…”
“I’ll do everything in my power to get her help.”
“Okay.” With a bolstering breath, she visibly calms, slipping back into her role in the family—the one that allows her to survive. “Tell Mom I’ll call her later. I have a study session this morning.”
I grab her hand before she can leave, waiting for her to meet my gaze. “I love you, Ellie.”
Tears shimmer. “I know. Even though I wish I didn’t, I love you, too. Be careful.”
She walks to her BMW convertible, not giving me another glance.
“Callisto?”
I turn to find Vivian on the stoop, cell phone still to her ear, her eyes hard on me. Smile. Everything’s fine.
I join her. “What’s up?”
“I’m sorry to say you have an appointment with Detective Willis… Wilber… whatever her name is at ten this morning. My driver will take you and Hugo will meet you there.”
My heart leaps. Outwardly, I’m serene. “Why?”
“I don’t bloody know. Follow-up on the physical or some other nonsense. Trust me, I tried to get you out of it, but apparently that woman you spoke to has the ear of the Chief of Police. She’s making a stink. Hugo has advised us to play nice.”
I nod. “Whatever you need.”
“Good, thank you.”
She ends the phone call without saying goodbye—Hugo’s used to it, I’m sure—and smiles. “I heard you had a spat with Franco.”
“He overstepped.”
“Hmm. According to him, you overstepped.”
I shrug. “I don’t take orders from him.”
Her expression hardens. “And me? Those were my rules you broke.”
“Only to show you they weren’t necessary.”
“For you, perhaps. But maybe they weren’t for you. Don’t defy me again.”
On that parting note, she sweeps back into the house.
36
“Go on in,” says Detective Wilson, opening the door of an interview room, “I’ll stall Barnes a bit.”
Before I can ask why, I see Finn rising from a chair at the metal table, his worried expression melting to relief. In seconds I’m in his arms, babbling—mostly incoherently—about what happened last night and this morning.
All the fear and fury, helplessness and grief comes surging out of me until I forget where I am. The camera blinking in a corner. The smoky mirror on one wall.
“Hey, princess, breathe. Slow down.”
Holding me by the shoulders, he searches my tear-streaked face. “We’re talking about your youngest sister? Lizzie?”
I nod.
His jaw ticks. “You’re not going back there. This isn’t a vague threat anymore.”
