no fanfare. No press or gawkers. She’d come for his spare uniform to drop off at the mortuary along with the proper forms and payments. No obituary, no service, just name and dates of birth and death on the stone next to the woman who wasn’t her mother.
Would anything have changed if they’d had that one last chance to talk? Her conscience ached with that question. Whether his summons was for further condemnation or impossible reparations, it no longer mattered. When she locked the door behind her, after she’d discharged her duties, she’d leave all that in favor of her new life, her new family.
Except for one loose end.
“Hello, PhePhe.”
Olivia sat on the foot of the stairs in the same spot Ophelia had spoken to the police. None of the glam clothes and frivolous airs. She looked . . . tired. Lost. And whatever this new ploy, it wasn’t going to work.
Phe expected to feel anger, but it was apathy that surfaced as she stepped past the slumped form and began to climb. “I don’t have time for your games today, Liv. I’ve got a father to bury.”
“Yes. My father. The great man. Left for worm food with no one to mourn him, just as I’ll be some day.”
Phe paused and sighed, reluctantly drawn in. “You know that’s not true. Why do you say such things?”
“Because the only one who’s ever loved me is walking away from me right now.” A moment’s silence then a quiet, “I did it for you, not her. For you and Chris.”
A shiver ran from head to toe, an icy trickle of truth. She recalled her three-card draw that morning: The Sun reflecting a past of optimism, relationship growth, family, children and happiness, all of which she’d found; the Eight of Swords her present, a grim tableau of forced obligation and relationship road blocks right here before her; and, a future in the Seven of Swords with its warning to be vigilant and protect home, possessions and relationships. A dark circle Olivia was forcing to fruition. Before she could turn in frustration and grief, another warning followed.
“He’d never have let you be happy. Neither will she. Be careful, Phe. She’s made plans to see all of you dead. Starting with your new king. Soon.”
Squeezing her eyes shut, Phe swayed on the steps, struggling not to respond. Finally, she breathed deep and slowly turned. “And still, you stay with that monster. Knowing these things.”
“Only because I have nowhere else to go. No place I feel . . . safe with who I am.”
“My family could have been killed!”
Shoulders hunched beneath the blow those words struck, Olivia continued in the same lifeless monotone. “If I’d known, I’d have warned you. That demon bitch must have followed me when I visited, so guess it’s my fault. It’s always my fault. I led her there. But I had to see you, to know that you were happy, that he makes you happy.” A wavering smile. “He does. And I’m glad. I’d never have let you, Chris or his family be harmed. You have to believe that.”
“Believe? I’m so far past believing anything you have to say. Why would you think an apology makes you blameless?”
“How about this instead?” She extended her hand, fingers unfurling to reveal a hotel pass card. “Give this to Chris’s brother, the big, pretty one. That’s where he can find justice for his mate.” As Phe cautiously took the key card, Olivia warned, “Whatever my . . . my mother is planning, it’s happening soon. And no one will be spared. Unless one of you stops her.” She stood, eyes lowered, voice weary. “Good-bye, Phe. See to our father then see to you and yours. Get the hell out of this city while you can.”
– – –
Cale stepped into the back lot of CdC where he’d parked his bike, the family party officially, dramatically, over. As he straddled the seat, his cell pinged, alerting him to a message from an unknown caller. It was mysterious and brief, citing a cargo dock number, urging ASAP. Tibideaux requesting a private meet? Or perhaps one of his undercover workers with sensitive information.
Or something else.
Familiar with the area from his time spent unloading freighters in the guise of Mick Terry, he rode down to the wharf. Stevedores pointing him in the right direction, he began searching the maze of stacked containers for the right combination of numbers until he found himself in a dead-end metal canyon. Cutting his motorcycle