Chapter 8 Silas
SILAS
Once I’m alone, Hamish comes into the living room.
“This the box you wanted?” he asks. I’d asked him to bring the small wooden box with him from the house in Atlanta.
I take it, remembering it from when I was little. My mother had kept her few valuables inside it.
“That’s it. Thanks for getting it.”
He nods and leaves me to it. I open the box, and the first thing I do is take the feather out of my pocket, the one that landed at my feet as Ophelia and I left the chapel.
I place it inside the box. There are a few others in it as well.
I’ve collected them whenever they’ve appeared impossibly and out of nowhere. I can’t quite explain why.
Along with the feathers are three pairs of silver earrings, one turquoise ring that Mom loved, and some knick-knacks of hers I kept only because I remember her wearing them, not because they’re valuable.
The thing I’m looking for sits demurely out of the way in one corner.
It’s a small ring, an antique. It belonged to my grandmother, according to Mom, and to her grandmother before that.
She was meant to wear it when she married and pass it on to her daughter.
She never got the chance though. She never married and never had a daughter.
Until now.
I slip the small gold band on my pinky finger.
It only goes as far as the second knuckle.
I lift it up to the light of a lamp and study the scalloped pavé design of diamonds circling the band and coming together on either side to set off the larger stone at its center.
It’s as different from the obnoxious ring Ethan had given her as can be.
It’s pretty and elegant and one of a kind. Like her.
Setting the box aside, I take out my phone. I look through the call history and locate the number to Horatio Hart’s lawyer, Higgins, then hit the Call button.
He answers on the second ring. “Ophelia?”
“No, this is Silas Cruz. Ophelia’s husband.” My announcement is followed by a long silence, which I expected. “Is this Mr. Higgins? Horatio Hart’s attorney?”
“Yes. I’m sorry, did you say Ophelia’s husband? She’s engaged—”
“Was engaged. That’s over now. She’s my wife.”
He clears his throat.
“Horatio Hart is at Massachusetts General?”
“Yes, but—”
“How long will he be there?”
“He can’t have visitors. I told Ophelia—”
“Ophelia won’t be visiting him just yet. How long will he be there?”
“Ah.” Pause. “Mr. Cruz, you’re aware there’s an arrest warrant out in your name.”
“I’m aware. How long?”
“I expect they’ll move him late morning, tomorrow,” he tells me hesitantly.
“And which room is he in?” I hear him take a deep breath in. “Listen, Higgins, I have something he’s going to want to see sooner rather than later. What is his room number?”
“Give me a minute. I’ll call you back.” He disconnects the call.
I walk across the room to one of the richly draped windows at the front of the house and gaze out onto the quiet night.
The road isn’t visible from here. It’s secluded and completely private.
I chose this place because I can’t go home.
The police will be waiting for me there.
It’s a matter of time before I’m arrested, but I need to take care of a few things before that happens.
The phone rings and I answer.
“Room 414. They won’t allow visitors, but Horatio has a feeling you’ll find a way.”
“I will. Good night, Mr. Higgins.”
I tuck the phone into my pocket and tell Hamish to have the car ready as I make my way up to the bedroom Ophelia had disappeared into.
The lights on the nightstands cast a dim glow over the room, which is large, the design a little over the top for my liking, but it’s tastefully done.
I set my mother’s jewelry box on the table, taking out what I need.
I then draw the curtains closed and strip off my jacket, draping it over the back of a chair.
The light in the bathroom is on. I can see the strip of it under the door.
So, I take a seat on the chair that is more comfortable than I expect and wait for my wife.
It's another ten minutes before I hear the bath drain. I straighten as the door opens and Ophelia steps out of the bathroom, a thick towel wrapped around herself. She doesn’t see me at first, and I can watch her.
Her pale skin is pink from a hot bath, her hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun.
Does she have a clue how beautiful she is?
What a fool Ethan Fox is for not seeing it.
I switch on the light and hear her gasp. I meant what I said at the chapel. I married her for love, and this is very real.
It’s time she understood that.