Chapter 2 - THE MAN IN THE CARRIAGE HOUSE
The first time Delphine saw Camille enter the carriage house, it was 9:14 p.m.
She knew the time because the kitchen clock had stopped at 9:12 the previous week, and Ruthie had asked her to compare it with the digital clock above the service entrance.
Delphine had just carried a bag of linen to the laundry room when Camille crossed the courtyard.
She wore a dark coat over her evening dress.
No jewelry.
No handbag.
Her phone was pressed to her ear.
The carriage house had not held a carriage in nearly a century. Elias's father had converted it into storage for antique furniture, then abandoned the project.
Its windows were narrow and high.
Delphine would have continued walking if she hadn't seen the light.
Someone was already inside.
A man stood beside a worktable.
Gray hair.
White shirt.
A distinctive stiffness in his right shoulder.
Camille approached him.
She placed an envelope on the table.
The man opened it.
Delphine couldn't hear their conversation through the glass.
And she couldn't read their lips from that angle.
But she saw him remove a document bearing a familiar green logo.
Hion Ridge Partners.
Her stomach tightened.
She stepped backward.
Her shoe scraped the stone.
Inside, the man turned.
Delphine ducked behind a rain barrel.
For several seconds, she didn't breathe.
Then the light went out.
The following night, Camille returned at 9:14.
And the night after that.
Always the same time.
Always the same man.
On Thursday, Delphine caught a clearer view of his face.
She recognized him.
Not from the estate.
From a newspaper photograph she'd kept in her tin box.
His name was Malcolm Voss.
He had been the attorney who represented Hion Ridge Partners when the company repossessed Aaron's shrimp boat.
Delphine remembered his smile.
She remembered him telling her that contracts were unfortunate things, but they had to be honored.
And she remembered Aaron standing beside her, his hands trembling as he signed away the boat he'd worked three years to buy.
Now Malcolm Voss was meeting Elias Ferraro's fiancée in secret.
Delphine couldn't believe that was a coincidence.
On Friday morning, she approached Ruthie in the kitchen.
“Can I ask you something?”
Ruthie was counting silver serving spoons.
“Depends.”
“Does Mr. Ferraro know someone is using the carriage house?”
Ruthie stopped counting.
“Why?”
“I saw someone there.”
“Who?”
Delphine hesitated.
Ruthie's face changed.
“Delphine.”
“Yes?”
“Don't.”
Delphine stared.
“Don't what?”
“Don't make yourself interesting to people who can afford to ruin your life.”
Delphine went silent.
Ruthie lowered her voice.
“You have a little girl.”
“I know.”
“Then remember her.”
That evening, Delphine returned home and opened the tin box.
Inside lay Aaron's wedding ring, a photograph of their first boat, and the loan agreement.
She unfolded the paper.
HION RIDGE PARTNERS.
Beneath the company's name was Malcolm Voss's signature.
And beside it, in Aaron's handwriting, a note.
If anything happens to me, ask why the debt doubled after the insurance payment.
Delphine had read those words a hundred times.
But she'd never known whom to ask.
Now she had a name.
May you like
And a place.
And a reason to be afraid.
