“Elizabeth Archer,” she repeats. “Yes. Why?”
“I need to know who she is and what interest she has in my son. Lachlan told me she’s only been in Scotland for a short time. I couldn’t get too much information because the call was cut short.”
“Who do you think she is?”
“Don’t know. But someone shot Declan within days of Bennett’s murder, and he refused to mention who. There’s a link in this somewhere; I know it.”
“This is so unfair,” she voices. “I mean, you never hurt anyone. I don’t know why you’re sitting here in jail and not the others who are involved. Why don’t you give up their names?”
“You know why, Camilla. We’ve already talked about it. These aren’t the types of people you turn your back on. This business is much bigger than me. And knowing the amounts of money I’ve been laundering and the lives at stake if someone were to blow the whistle, I’d be killed.”
“I know we’ve talked about it, it’s just . . . ”
“Look,” I say, wanting her to not get wrapped up in the emotions of it all. “For right now, just focus on taking care of yourself. Focus on figuring out who this girl is that’s spending time with Declan. I don’t want you getting hung up on things that are out of our control right now, all right?”
Nodding, she yields, “All right.”
STEPPING FOOT ON foreign soil feels freeing. I’m relieved of the weight I’ve been bearing on my back, and it’s a welcome change to be able to walk around without constantly looking over my shoulder.
I arrived here in Scotland yesterday, and after getting my first night of solid rest in a long time, I woke up this morning, revived.
But now, it’s business.
Finding her is my ticket to freedom.
So when I open up my laptop, I start searching with the two names I’m already aware of that she uses: Nina Vanderwal and Elizabeth Archer.
“HELLO?” I ANSWER when my cell rings.
“Elizabeth, it’s Lachlan.”
His voice disappoints. Ever since Declan came to me and asked me not to leave, I’ve been hoping to hear from him, but so far, nothing.
“Hi.”
“I was wondering if we could get together. I have some information about your mother.”
A slight jolt of adrenaline rushes my body. Or is it anxiety? Fear, maybe? I don’t know what it is exactly, but it awakens something inside of me, and I ask, “You found her?”
“Yes. Do you have time to meet me?”
“Are you in town?” I ask, knowing he lives over an hour away in Edinburgh.
“I can be. You just tell me what works for you.”
“I can come to the city.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” I respond. “It’ll be nice to have a little change of scenery.”
Honestly, I just need a distraction. I spent all of yesterday moping around after having Declan here the night before. The tangled mess of this situation is driving me to madness. Trying to deal with the wound I opened the other night is proving to be too much for me to cope with.
And when one wound opens, so does another.
With the rousing of the shame and disgust of my past that I’d forced to lie dormant for so long, I needed a vice to help me grapple with the war inside of me. So I did what I’m becoming good at, and when the tranquility of blood running down my neck faded, I hammered my fists into my thighs. I wasn’t sated until I could finally see the blood pooling beneath my skin. Mutilated alabaster.
I hang up with Lachlan after I jot down his address and grab my scarf and coat. I head out and make the drive to Edinburgh. When I turn onto Merchiston Gardens, I’m greeted with beautiful Victorian homes.
“Did you have any problems finding it?” Lachlan asks when he opens the front door after I pull up to his house.
“I’m in a foreign country,” I tease. “I always have problems when I drive here.”
He laughs, and as I approach, he remarks with jest, “Well, you appear unscathed, and the car still looks to be in one piece.”
“Lucky car,” I respond with a wink before stepping into the foyer.
The walls are bathed in rich taupes, ivories, and wines with hardwood floors and large bay windows. The house is airy with lots of natural lighting.
“Lovely home.”
Walking past me, I follow Lachlan through the house to a formal sitting area.
“Can I get you a drink?” he offers.
“No, thank you.” Slipping off my coat, I drape it over the couch and take a seat with Lachlan sitting adjacent to me. “Impressive.”
He laughs, saying, “You’re being generous. One could say I was slumming it when compared to the likes of your man’s Brunswickhill.”
“My man?”
“Isn’t he?”
Continuing the light banter, which tends to come easily between the two of us, I say, “Well, for anyone who knows Declan, you’re instantly aware that no one stakes claim on him. He operates on the contrary.” Crossing my legs, I chuckle, adding, “Total control freak.”
“Try working for him.”
His words perplex, and I question, “You work for him?” and when he nods, I note, “You failed to mention that.”