Page 31 of Death in the Family
“It doesn’t help that he’s so accomplished,” she said. “Things come more easily to Jasper than the others, in everything. It puts a strain on their relationship, those three, especially now that they work together.”
“That’s fairly new, isn’t it? Jasper joining the business?”
“He came on to help them last year.”
I returned the phone and my things to my pockets and holstered my gun. Between the burn and the bulky gauze it wasn’t a painless task. “How’s that going?” I asked.
She hesitated. “It’s been a challenge. He has a lot of cleaning up to do. I’m as eager to see the business bounce back as anyone, but it isn’t Jasper’s duty to make things right when he had nothing to do with them going wrong.” Again Camilla paused thoughtfully. “Do you know how old I am? On my next birthday, I’ll be ninety-two. I’ve had a fair amount of life, wouldn’t you say?”
“We should all be so lucky.”
Her laugh was dark. “It isn’t luck that got me here. I worked hard for what I have, and I expect the same exertion from my family. But I’ve learned there’s more to life than padding your bank account. Money comes and money goes. Jasper knows that. It’s why I’m so happy to see him with Abella. She’s lovely, don’t you think?”
“I’m sure she is.”
“Let me tell you something I told Jasper,” she said. “Whatever happens in this life, you have to put your own needs first. There may come a day when you wake up and discover you’ve been pressed into a mold. You’re stuck.”
“Stuck how?”
“Stuck is stuck. And when something is stuck, Detective Merchant, what do you do? You apply force. Forge a path to your own destiny.” She gave a small shrug. “It’s really the only way.”
I had a million more questions for this woman with her sphinx-like riddles, but before I could ask them, Camilla turned. “All set? Ah. That looks like a fit to me.”
The fabric was uncomfortably tight over my hips, the pants several inches too short. On me, Camilla’s button-down shirt insisted on playing a game of peek-a-boob. “They’re perfect, thanks,” I said. “When you say you need to apply force—”
“You should get back downstairs. Would you mind,” she asked feebly, “if I stayed? I think I should lie down for a while. It’s been a day.”
I didn’t point out there was much more day to come. The woman looked worn to the bone. The idea of leaving her didn’t sit right, but neither did herding her back down those stairs. After Bram, Carson helped me learn to manage my emotions, but I’ve always worried I might be too ruthless and uncaring now. To do my job well Ineededto feel. So I disregarded the voice in my head and reminded myself this was an elderly woman under a lot of stress.
“Of course. Stay,” I said.
“Thank you.” Camilla nodded at the wet clothes under my arm. “Give those to Philip. He’ll take care of them. Anything you need, just ask Philip.”
At the door, I looked back to see Camilla Sinclair sitting where I’d left her, staring at nothing at all.
FIFTEEN
When I finally got a chance to look at Jade’s phone again, this time in the privacy of the empty library, I was surprised by what I found. While Tim and I were getting to know her family, Jade had been getting to know us. A series of open browser windows showed she’d googled our names and the location of the A-Bay police station. She’d even pulled up contact info for the local sheriff. What did Jade want with McIntyre when she already had Tim and me?
I moved on to her photos next, navigating awkwardly with my left hand. I’ve got a teen niece, my brother’s kid, so I know the kind of nonsense girls get up to with their phones. Jade’s photos were different. There weren’t many images of her with friends. She didn’t use filters that turned her into an animated cat. Most of her camera roll captured Manhattan’s historic architecture, and therewere some nature shots that weren’t half-bad. The girl had an eye for composition—and an audience. Her Instagram account, dedicated to her photography, showed two thousand followers.
I knew I wouldn’t be so lucky as to find an image of a bloody butcher’s knife, but I got the next best thing: pictures of Jasper with Jade. One shot showed them standing in front of a restaurant in the city. In another they were at a photography exhibit in the sort of sparse white space native to pop-up galleries. Both photos were selfies, and young Jade’s father was nowhere to be seen.
As I scrolled I found images of Jasper on his own, including a large collection that, according to the dates on the camera roll, were from July 4. Some were close-ups, but others had a creepy stalker quality. I felt sure Jasper didn’t know Jade was taking them.
The most recent photos had been snapped the previous day, and they were the only pictures of Jasper with Abella. Given the angle, I figured Jade took them from the house’s winding staircase. The couple stood face-to-face in the hall, between the library and the parlor. The first photo showed Norton in the background, moments after he passed by. I zoomed in to the second. By then Jasper and Abella were alone, and it was obvious from their expressions they were arguing.
When I asked Abella if she and Jasper had fought last night, she’d denied it. So what the hell was this? And why was Jade spying on them through the spindles of the stairs?
Jade and Jasper were twelve years apart, but Jasper was the youngest of the Sinclairs, and I could see them being friends. Flynn said the family didn’t get together much anymore, but Jade had been on Camilla’s island with Jasper for the Fourth of July weekend. Who else would she hang out with here if not him?
Back in the kitchen, when I demanded Jade’s phone, sheinsisted she hadn’t contacted anyone—and sure enough no e-mails, text messages, or calls had been made since our arrival. She’d been honest, but in a way that bothered me more than finding out she had lied. What kind of fourteen-year-old who finds herself in a situation like this doesn’t text her friends for sympathy and some attention?The kind who’s got a crush on an older guy, I thought grimly. Jade didn’t text her friends or spend time with them in the city because she was preoccupied with our missing man.
I looked down at my bandaged right hand. If Jadehadintentionally burned me—and that was still a big if—the kid was seriously messed up. Did the photos mean she was obsessed with Jasper? Was Jade just a girl with a crush, or were she and Jasper having some kind of twisted affair?
“Detective Merchant?”
Abella approached the library’s open door. Right away I noticed her perfect manicure had taken a hit. The polish was flaking and her cuticles were red from where she’d nervously gnawed the skin. “Can I talk to you?”
