“Yes,” Delilah said, closing her eyes to think, think, think.
“Although you have a key, you are not on the list of registered users, so I know that key is not yours.”
“Is Gavin Timothy on the list?” she asked, ignoring the gentle admonishment in his words.
Kenneth glanced at the computer screen in front of him. “Sorry, no. It may help to remind you that a signature is required when the account was first established. If Gavin is Ms. Timothy’s son, he likely would have been—”
“Right,” she said, cutting him off. He would have been only a toddler when she opened the box. Delilah bent over, pressing her hands to her face. She could feel tears rising, making her throat feel thick and her face grow tight. Gavin had gone back to the house and she had no way of knowing if he was okay, but she couldn’t imagine a scenario where House welcomed him home with cookies and warmth. She couldn’t get into the box to find out what, if anything, his mother knew, and all of their money was burned to ashes. Her parents were as warm as glaciers; Nonna was lost to dementia. The risk of coming here had been a waste, and Delilah had never felt more defeated in her entire life. “Sorry. I’m leaving. I just need a minute.”
“Delilah.” Kenneth bent closer so she could hear when he whispered, “I’m sure you’re looking for information for a very good reason, but unless you can come back with Hilary Timothy or Vani Reddy, I’m sorry to say I can’t help you.”
“Vani Reddy?” Delilah looked up into Kenneth’s warm, hazel eyes, blood thundering in her ears. Hope. A faint glimmer of hope sparked in her chest.
“Yes,” Kenneth said with a polite smile. “She’s the other person listed on the account.”
? ? ?
Delilah knocked on the door to the Reddy house with a clammy, shaking fist. Dhaval answered, wearing his soccer uniform and eating a sandwich.
“Oh shit,” he said around a bite. “You look like hell.”
Delilah made a minor attempt to finger comb her hair. “I need to speak to your mom, D.”
Vani appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a linen cloth. “Delilah?”
“Auntie, I’m so sorry to come by like this without calling.”
The other woman hushed her, told her to come inside.
“Vani,” Delilah started, putting her backpack down beside the coatrack. “You knew Gavin’s mother?”
“I know her, yes.”
“I think Gavin’s in trouble. I don’t know who else can help me.”
Vani waved Delilah farther inside, leading her to the living room. “Hilary called looking for him. Is that what this is about?”
Delilah looked at Dhaval, asking, “What have you told her?”
He swallowed his bite, eyes wide, and then said, “Nothing yet.”
“Told me about what?” Vani draped the dish towel over the back of a chair and sat down. “What are you two up to?”
“Have you ever been to the Timothy house?”
She nodded. “Years ago. Hilary and I were once. . . well, we were close acquaintances, if that makes sense. Not really friends, more than strangers. I haven’t seen her in a while.”
“You talk about her as if she’s still alive.”
Vani paused, tilting her head as she let this sink in. “And you speak about her as if she isn’t. The dead don’t usually make phone calls, Delilah.”
“So you did talk to her this morning?”
“I did. What is this about?”
Delilah swallowed, leaning closer. “Vani, I’ve been to Gavin’s house before, but I’ve never met her. I haven’t even seen her.”
“You must understand Hilary is a very private, eccentric—”
“No, Auntie,” Delilah said, interrupting with apology in her eyes. “Gavin has never seen her, either. At least not since he was small. He lives there alone.”
Vani’s hand pressed to her chest, her eyes wide. “That can’t be true, jaanu.”