Page 156 of Death is Familiar

I read it through, once, twice, three times.

I looked at the boy. Back at the name. Back at the boy.

No fucking way.

“…Jack?” He stopped whatever he was doing as I gestured to the portrait. “Care to explain this?”

Sharing a knowing glance with Todd, he took measured steps towards me, hands raised. “It’s not what it looks like.”

Not what it looks like? Standing next to the painting there was no doubt in my mind that Jack and the child shared the same genetic make-up. “Why does this child look like you?”

Blush crept into his cheeks, as he rubbed at the nape of his neck. “I thought they would have taken it down.”

“Taken it down?” He was dancing around my question, and I wasn’t in the mood to play games or decipher any riddles. “Jack, who is this a painting of?”

Drawing a deep breath and holding it, he released his confession in two agonizing bursts. “My parents.” He drew his fingers through his hair. “And me.”

My pulse thudded in my ears as I pointed to the plaque. “Your last name is Hessinger?”

Jack slid his hand back to the base of his neck. “Was…” Oh my god. “I had it shortened.”

The world wobbled. “Shortened.” Then a sudden smack of realization. The castle. The stair cases. “This is your family’s home?” I looked out the windows opposite us. “You’ve got a courtyard?”

“My parents come from old money,” he said as if it would explain everything.

“They live here?!”

“Not quite.” I don’t know what I was expecting, but he went on to say, “This is… this is their, um… summer house.”

My jaw nearly hit the floor. When Jack had said my passenger wouldn’t want for anything took on a whole new meaning. And the random roofy-expositioned fact that his parents had wanted an heir. They wanted someone to inherit an absurd fortune.

Dizzy with shock, I sturdied myself by grabbing a hold of the wall, and took deep successive breaths. “What. The. Actual. Hell.”

“I know this is a shock. I can explain. I⁠—”

I made the ‘zip-it motion’. I couldn’t handle more words, more explanation as the weight of the castle pressed upon my chest. I was having enough trouble adjusting to things as it was, and this, this was just an addition to all the chaos. Yes, having money was generally a good problem to have, but people with this amount of money… Any other time, any other person may have thought this a miracle. But my cup was already spilling over the brim and I didn’t know how many more revelations I could take.

Needing something steady and reassuring, I spun to Mr. Grumpy. “Is Galt short for anything?”

“Just Galt.”

“Thank god.” Pushing off the wall, I kicked off my orange clogs—even though this felt like the sort of place one was expected to never wander barefoot—and spun to face both agents. “I need a shower. I need some clothes, and something to eat, and then I’m going to tell you everything you need to about the Seal. You are going to get the one shot to ask all of the questions you need to ask, and then I am not opening this up again. Got it?”

They nodded.

“Then I’m going to sleep in a real bed, and whenever I wake up, we are going to form a plan to deal with everything.”

When they nodded again, I crossed the great expanse of marbled floor and started up the stairs using the handrail, my bare feet smacking against the cold stone.

But the truth was I had no idea where I was going, and halfway up the steps my unease ate through my anger.

“I appreciate you giving me the space to storm off,” I shouted over my shoulder, my gaze forward, “but someone better show me where to go, because I’m only making it look like I know what I’m doing.”

Jack must’ve taken the stairs three at a time, because he was at my side in a matter of seconds, guiding me up to the second-floor landing where I was met with the longest hallway of my life, and innumerable closed doors.

His hand flat against the curve of my waist, he asked, “What room would you like?”

How the heck was I supposed to know? I just needed simple. Easy. “Jack…”