Page 119 of Mercy (The Sins Trilogy 3)
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Ivy
Bobbi, Tony and I go the foundation’s office. Tension is burning in my stomach like acid. The music box is old. Would Sam have been able to add anything to the recording? What if there’s nothing, and Marty was just being Marty? I don’t want Tony to be disappointed. But at the same time, I’m afraid what a recording might reveal.
Damn you, Margot.
The music box is still on my desk, buried under a pile of sticky notes and documents. My mouth dry, I unearth it with slightly shaky hands and head out with Bobbi by my side. On the way home, we pick up Chinese.
The second we’re home, I wind it up as much as possible, open the lid and place it on the dining table. It starts up with Debussy, the melody tinny, just like I remember. Will we even recognize somebody’s voice with such poor sound quality?
Bobbi takes out the cartons and paper plates from the bag. Although I’m hungry, I don’t think I can eat. The suspense, the dreadful anticipation of what might play at the end is twisting my stomach until it feels like a pretzel. I reach for Tony’s hand and squeeze hard.
The music stops.
“That’s it?” Bobbi says, staring at the box like it should emit mystical light and give us some thunderous insight.
“That’s certainly…anticlimactic.” I frown.
“Did you get any other file or message from Sam? Anything?” Tony asks.
“No. Just this.”
He rubs his jaw. “Damn it.”
“Marty Peacher could’ve lied.” Bobbi takes a small bite of beef and broccoli. “He doesn’t strike me as a model of honesty.”
“He’s not, but trust me, Byron and I scared the shit out of him. He wouldn’t have made something up, especially when he knows I can check with Ivy and find out.”
I rub the tension at the base of his neck, disappointment and relief tugging at me from two different directions. “Maybe he’s just…mistaken. He could just think I have it, when maybe Sam gave it to someone else.”
“But…” Tony picks up the music box, his expression grim. “This has to be the recording Marty was talking about. It has to.”
Raw emotions seethe in his gaze. It must be terrible to realize maybe your mom did something awful enough to be blackmailed for.
I kiss his temple. “Tony, let’s have dinner. Then we can pick it apart.”
He looks like he wants to argue, but starts eating, much to my relief. I want him fed and taken care of before we worry about what Marty said. Even though Tony’s convinced Marty didn’t lie, Bobbi has a good point. Marty would say anything to save his skin.
Just like his daddy.
Tony picks at his food at first, but eventually finishes, along with the glass of Chianti I pushed his way. He grabs another glass and studies the music box.
“Maybe he hid it inside.”
“Could have, I guess. But that box is awfully small.”
“Do you mind?” His hand hovers over the box.
“Go ahead.” I don’t care if he rips it apart to satisfy his need to know. I just hope it’ll give him the answer he needs.
He picks it up and turns it over in his hands, studying the tiny screws on the bottom. There’s a small rattle. He shakes it again; another rattle. He looks at me.
“Yeah, it was doing that before.” I shrug, not wanting to get Tony’s hopes up. Judging from the sound, whatever’s making the noise is too small even to be a thumb drive. “Something probably got loose. It’s really old.”
“But if it’s rattling this bad, seems like it should be broken.”
“I don’t think anybody’s put anything inside, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s barely two inches square.”
