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The view shook and whirled until we were looking at her destroyed living room.
It must’ve taken a moment for it to sink in, but after Ophelia’s delayed gasp, she launched into a breathless rush of questions and accusations. “What happened? You did this. Why? I’m already here. You could’ve just lied and said it was destroyed. I can’t… some of that stuff is irreplaceable. I can never get it back. Why would you do this?”
“He didn’t, lass,” Dair tried, turning the camera back to him, but she wasn’t listening.
“I don’t understand why you’d do this. My home. What did I ever do to you?”
I gave her hip a squeeze so she’d look up at me. “Jury and I got there after it’d been hit.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. I don’t have anything worth stealing.”
Getting back to why I called, I told Dair, “Show ‘er the bag on the bed.”
He hesitated.
“She’s over here tryin’ to kick my ass with the shit I bought her ‘cause she thinks I’m a pervert. She’s gonna find out about her old stuff, I’d rather it be before she takes my eye out with lace or strangles me with a thong.”
“Only ya’d complain about a lass throwing her underthings at ya.” The camera shook as he walked down the hall. He didn’t speak as he turned its focus to the bag on her bed.
“I’m confused,” Ophelia whispered, tilting her head to look at me. “If you packed my underwear, why didn’t you just bring it instead of whatever all this is?”
Wanting to give her my undivided attention when I answered, I ignored her for a moment to ask him, “Any word from Nox?”
“Not yet. Figure he had his hands full with the visit, then his hands full a different way.”
It was a good guess.
“Call me as soon as you learn anything.”
He started to turn the phone around but ended up dropping it to the bed. When he picked it up, the damn camera was aimed at the piss-poor plastic substitution they’d left on her bed.
Ophelia leaned closer. “Is that my…” Her words trailed off and she looked at me, her gray eyes filled with fury and devastation.
Daggers and vulnerability.
If this is an act…
I might not fuckin’ care.
Ending the call, I told her, “Your underwear was on the bed when we got there, spelling out Boo—with a plastic exclamation point.”
Ophelia put a shaking hand on my abs and whispered, “It wasn’t you?”
Holding her tighter as she trembled, I shook my head and whispered back, “Never lie to you.”
“So you’re saying someone else tore through my apartment and riffled through my underwear and… other things on the same day you grabbed me from a grocery store parking lot?”
I nodded.
She dropped her eyes and stared at the bed for long, silent moments.
“Well,” she finally said, her voice cracking, “this is not my day.”
And then she burst into tears.
