Page 112 of The Weight Of Falling
It’s been over a week since Joel told me about his father. It was the change we needed. We’ve grown closer in all the big and small ways. We’re more open with one another and trust is beginning to feel like something we do, not just something we say.
Joel is still watchful, and I don’t know if that wariness will ever leave him. But there’s a level of contentment in him now, as if something inside finally unclenched.
To ease Joel’s mind, I’m being more deliberate about my safety. I lock my door every time, and I avoid walking alone after dark if I can help it. When I set off anywhere, I share my live location with Joel and send a quickleaving now. When I’m through the door, I end the share and texthome safe. It’s our quiet check-in.
I’m careful, but I don’t let fear run my life. And Joel is learning not to let it run his.
Yesterday he told me Aaron and Gideon already knew about Roy Bellings. Of course they did. When Joel and I started fakedating, they dug around, and the truth rose to the surface like it always does. As a cybersecurity consultant, Aaron lives in the land of traces and tells. When it comes to Gideon, very little gets past him. He has connections I can’t even begin to map.
They met up with Joel, asked the hard questions, and chose not to hold a father’s sins against a son. After that, they apparently watched over me in small, ordinary ways. A well-timed check-in here, a walk to my car there. Protective has always been their love language.
Adjusting my tote on my shoulder, I detour to the mailbox before heading inside. The metal is warm against my fingertips. Inside, wedged against a flyer for garden mulch, sits a small package wrapped in brown paper.
I lift it out. There’s no return address. No postmark. No name.
Curious, I peel the paper away to reveal a plain wooden box. I ease the lid back. On a square of black velvet rests a single white chess piece.
The queen.
48
“Why a white queen?” Aaron asks. He shifts his gaze to me. “Besides the most obvious reason.”
The chess piece sits in the center of my coffee table. I called Joel the second I opened the box and saw it. He was at my place in minutes, breaking every speed limit. The car had barely stopped before he was out and sprinting to the porch where I stood. Without a word, he swept me into his arms and crushed me to his chest, like he wished he could keep me there forever. I felt the fury running hot under his skin.
On the drive he must have called Aaron and Gideon. They arrived in separate cars five minutes later, their faces grim and focused.
A lump forms in my throat. It’s the middle of a work week and they’re all here. They didn’t hesitate; they dropped everything to get to me, understanding how serious the threat is.
The four of us gather in my living room, not touching the chess piece, yet it commands all our attention.
Gideon’s taken the single chair nearest the entrance, his posture relaxed, but his eyes alert. Aaron’s in the armchair by the window and Joel sits next to me on the couch, his shoulder touching mine, Turbo at our feet.
I can’t help but notice that all three men have angled themselves so they can keep an eye on all the exits and entrances to the room.
Tension charges the air, the space crackling with unsaid things. It feels like the second before a lightning strike, when everyone holds their breath and waits.
Joel is still glaring at the chess piece as though he wants to smash it to pieces. I touch his leg to secure his attention and repeat Aaron’s question. “Why a white queen?”
His face hardens. “Roy Bellings would have given precise instructions to whomever he’s got doing his dirty work,” he says in a grim voice. “The white queen is a deliberate choice. Black is him. White is Kenzie. A white queen on black velvet says she’s in his hand.”
Aaron leans closer without touching the queen. “There’s damage on the crown,” he points out, eyes narrowing. “It looks like a clean notch, not like it was dropped.”
Joel’s eyes fix on the mark. “He’s used pawns to taunt, rooks to suggest he could breach any defense, and knights to say I won’t see the angle.” He holds still, not breathing for a second. “He’s never marked a piece before.”
“It must mean something then,” Gideon says. “What are you thinking?”
Joel doesn’t answer right away. The tendons in his neck flex as he glares at the queen, and I glimpse his reluctance to say something,
He looks up, and a silent exchange goes on between the three of them.
Oh, no, they don’t.
“If there’s a meaning, I need you to tell me,” I say steadily. “It’s my life on the line. You can’t keep parts of this from me, not if we’re doing it together.”
Aaron sits back, leaving the space to Joel. Gideon gives a small nod.
Joel swallows and his hands tighten on his knees. “The notch on the queen isn’t decorative.”
