Page 51 of The Hitch
"Something wrong?" Helena asks, taking a massive bite of the snack.
"I don't know. Maybe I'm just mad. I can't eat it." I rub my eyes and slump forward onto the cool granite countertop.
"Has the yogurt gone bad? The strawberries? I didn't smell anything off," Marie asks, bustling over to inspect the bowl.
"Tastes fine to me," Helena assures her. "Tastesgreatto me, actually."
"Maybe I've still got that stomach bug?"
The two women turn to stare at me silently. I feel my cheeks flush again, all the way to the tips of my ears. "What?"
"Melody," Helena says carefully. "Don't take this the wrong way. But, um, no one else in the house has gotten sick. I've been with you all day, every day. Eating the same things as you. Drinking the same things as you, mostly."
"Uh huh?" I don't see where she's going.
"Oh, for heaven's sake. Melody, dear, have you taken a test?" Marie tosses her hand towel onto the counter exasperatedly.
"What test?"
"A pregnancy test!" both of the women exclaim in unison.
Oh, fuck.
Dante
Roman and I sit at my desk, watching and re-watching the video we took of Marie's interrogation. I cringe inwardly at how abrasive and rude we were to the woman. She's been nothing but lovely, if a little aloof, throughout my life. A consummate professional. Which is exactly why I trust her—trusted her—up until the phone incident.
"I swear on your father, Dante. I had nothing to do with it. Please, take my phone, look through my records. I assure you, it was not me."
"Then who was it?" Roman pressed further, leaning over the table.
His bulk is intimidating, even on video. I steeple my hands and watch for any fidgeting, any shift in Marie's position, analyzing every microexpression that might flash across her face. There's nothing. She flicks her gaze to the camera, and then back at my own face.
"I don't know. But I promise you this: Melody is safe with me. I still have that shotgun under the sink, Dante. The one your mother gave me in the 90s."
"I need to go back to the gym," Roman mutters, staring at the screen next to me. "But what are your thoughts, sir?"
I sigh and rake my hands down my face, scratching at the stubble. "I trust her. I believe her."
"I agree."
We told Marie as much when we concluded the interrogation, but the whole situation has me nervous. I don't get nervous like this often. And as much as I'd like to deny it, I'm worried for Melody's sake, too. That murderous woman has wormed her way into my heart, and I don't ever plan on letting her go.
But she doesn't need to know that yet.
Roman leans back in his chair. "I reviewed the external footage for the week. Nothing is amiss, no package deliveries, not even a sketchy character walking by. I don't like it, sir."
"What about the week before? And anywhere Melody went with Helena?"
"Nothing. It's like it never happened."
"But it did happen!" I slam my fist on the desk, rattling the monitor. "Itdidhappen. And we don't have a fucking cluehow. That's not acceptable, Roman."
"You're right, sir. Of course, you're right. But we don't even have any leads. This has never happened before." He shakes hishead and leans forward. "Seraph is up to something. Has to be. Maybe a new alliance, a new inductee, that has more resources."
"More resources than the Goetia? Ridiculous. No one has more than us," I assure him. Or maybe I'm trying to assure myself.
"Sirs?" Valencia pokes her head in the door. "Is everything alright?"
