Chapter Twenty Tiernan
CHAPTER TWENTY
TIERNAN
I flipped through Lila’s sketchbook again while she was taking a shower.
My wife drew what she remembered, and if she by chance remembered her attacker’s face, that mattered.
I didn’t find any new portraits, but I did find music sheets.
Dozens and dozens of them. Since Alex had taught me solfège when we were kids, I recognized some as Mozart and Beethoven.
That, in itself, did not impress me. Any monkey could copy and paste music sheets from the internet.
What piqued my interest were the ones I was not familiar with. And were not, in fact, classics at all.
I downloaded a piano app on my phone and played them out. They were completely original pieces. Fucking fantastic, too. Expressive, dramatic, elegant, and Gothic.
They could be someone else’s. Just because Lila wrote them didn’t mean she composed them.
They could.
But somehow, I knew, with stark clarity, that it was my wife who came up with them.