Page 11 of Requiem & Reverie

“And to set me straight, I presume?”

In one stride, Jonah is in my face, jaw shifting with all kinds of fury. “How’d you end up with the watch?”

The watch. Is that why they’re here? Hell, I forgot all about the watch until just now. My mind scrambles for what it could mean in this case, and judging by all the sudden hoo-hah, it must hold special powers, or some shit.

“Found it. In here.”

Jonah’s eye twitches, teeth grinding. “I call bullshit. That watch belongs to my sister’s dead husband. He was wearing it the night he was murdered.”

“Well, apparently, he wasn’t, if I found it in here.”

He rolls his shoulders back, his patience visibly wearing thin.

“Found it this morning. Had no idea it belonged to her dead husband. Nola hasn’t told me anything about him.”

“You’re lying. I don’t know how you came upon that watch, but you didn’t find it in here.”

“For an investigator, you’re awfully presumptuous about what someone was wearing at the time of death. And are police permitted to investigate the death of a family member? Seems like that would be a conflict of interest.”

“There was a picture of a woman. Eyes filled with sand. Nola says she saw it under the coffee table, along with files full of personal information.”

“Look, I know this gets tricky, with this being your sister’s property, but if you’d like, I can make a quick call to my lawyer, and you can go through the exhausting exercise of coming up with proof and probable cause and all the shit that will end up with the same outcome. I don’t have what you’re looking for.”

“And so, what? Nola was lying?”

It troubles me to have to do this, but it’s like I said before. I would guard my identity with my life. “She was upset when she left my apartment. She asked what would come of our … relations. I was honest with her. She didn’t appreciate my honesty.”

“I want you out of here, Voss. Out of this house. Out of my sister’s life.”

“Are you ordering that as an officer of the law? Or as a big brother?”

“Get out. And if I catch you back here, I will have you arrested on the spot.”

“Arrested for what, exactly?”

“Harassment. Assault.”

Assault? Jesus, is that what Nola reported? “Are you threatening me?”

“You’re damn right I am. Get out. I’m placing her under personal surveillance. For her protection. And you are officially evicted.” He flicks his fingers at me. “Keys.”

Backing myself toward the kitchen, I nab the keys from the counter, removing them from the ring that holds my car keys, and pass them off to him. Technically, I could fight him on it. I don’t, though, but only for Nola’s sake.

4

Nola

My hands are still shaking when I clutch the bannister and climb the stairs to Oliver’s room. I should feel safer, knowing Jonah’s here, just outside, but my stomach is still twisted in knots. I let a killer, a serial killer, into my home. So close to my son. My poor, damaged little boy, who’s already seen more than anyone should in a lifetime.

Halfway up the stairs, I pause and slam the back of my hand to my mouth, holding back the vomit creeping up my throat, holding back the tears.

What if Voss played a part in killing Oliver’s father?

Here, I let this complete stranger into my bed. I let him manipulate me into thinking he was something else. Something far more virtuous and good, but honestly, there’s always been something about Voss that doesn’t add up. Something I didn’t entirely buy about him. And so what if Voss paid off the meth-head who supposedly killed Denny? What if Voss arranged to have Denny murdered so viciously? After all, that’s what the suspect claimed at the time of his arrest. That someone had told him to grab the weapon and dispose of it. That he was innocent of the murder.

No. I can’t do this right now. I have to keep my shit together, for my son.

Shaking my head, I continue on toward Oliver’s room, give a quiet knock, but he doesn’t answer. “Oliver? Are you awake, honey?”