Chapter 3 - WIFE NUMBER SIX
“Dominic Shaw?”
I could hear how unbelievable it sounded.
Cassian didn’t answer immediately.
He was still holding Rebecca Holt’s bracelet.
Margaret rose from the pew.
“Dominic has been loyal to you since you were boys.”
“Seventeen years,” Cassian said.
“Then this is ridiculous.”
Cassian’s eyes moved toward her.
“You told me ten minutes ago that Dominic threatened your family using my name.”
Margaret looked away.
That ended her argument.
I held up Evelyn’s train ticket.
“Why Rhinecliff?”
Cassian took it.
“Rebecca’s sister used to live near there.”
“Used to?”
“She sold the house after Rebecca left me.”
That wasn’t comforting.
Cassian walked toward the chapel office and motioned for us to follow.
There was a long wooden table inside.
No flowers.
No wedding decorations.
Nothing about that morning looked like anyone had expected happiness.
Cassian placed the bracelet, ticket, and Evelyn’s note on the table.
“Tell me about Rebecca.”
His jaw tightened.
“You don’t need to hear it.”
“I’m standing here because of it.”
That stopped him.
He pulled out a chair but didn’t sit.
“Rebecca was thirty-two when we married. Her family owned a freight company in New Jersey. It was not a romantic marriage.”
“Another business arrangement?”
“Yes.”
“Did she want to marry you?”
His silence answered me.
“Did you?”
“No.”
At least he didn’t pretend.
“For the first two months, we were civil. Then Rebecca changed. She stopped eating in the dining room. She refused to use the east hallway. She started sleeping with a chair beneath her bedroom door.”
“Why?”
“She wouldn’t tell me.”
“Did you ask?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“She said if I wanted to frighten her, I should have the courage to do it myself.”
I stared at him.
“What did you say?”
“I thought she was accusing me of something I hadn’t done.”
“So?”
“So I walked away.”
I almost couldn’t believe it.
“You walked away.”
His expression hardened.
“I was angry.”
“She was terrified.”
“I know that now.”
The words carried more weight than an excuse would have.
Cassian looked at the rain-smeared window.
“Three nights later, she left through a kitchen door during a snowstorm. No coat. No shoes.”
“Why no shoes?”
“She said later that she believed the doors were being watched.”
“You spoke to her?”
“Once. Through Dominic.”
There it was again.
Dominic.
“What did Rebecca tell him?”
“That she wanted a divorce and never wanted me near her family.”
“And you believed Dominic?”
“He was my brother in every way except blood.”
I looked at the bracelet.
“Maybe that was the problem.”
Cassian’s eyes met mine.
Most people probably regretted sentences like that around him.
I didn’t.
Not anymore.
Margaret was examining Evelyn’s coat.
“This wasn’t here yesterday.”
I turned.
“What?”
“The coat. Evelyn wore it last week, but it wasn’t packed with her other things.”
Cassian looked at her.
“You searched her room?”
“Of course.”
“For what?”
“For anything that might tell me where she went.”
Margaret checked the lining.
Her fingers stopped.
“There’s something here.”
She found a small tear near the inside hem.
Someone had stitched the fabric closed again with dark blue thread.
I knew enough about sewing to recognize hurried work.
“Give it to me.”
I found a pair of scissors in the chapel office and carefully opened three stitches.
A photograph slid onto the table.
It was recent.
Very recent.
Evelyn stood beside a dark-haired woman wearing a beige coat.
The woman looked tired.
Beautiful, but tired.
Cassian sat down for the first time.
“Rebecca.”
My attention went to the background.
Stone steps.
Tall black doors.
A brass lantern.
I had seen that entrance in newspapers.
Cassian’s estate.
The photograph had been taken outside his house.
Margaret covered her mouth.
“That’s Evelyn.”
Cassian picked it up.
“Three days ago.”
“How do you know?”
“The groundskeeper changed those planters on Monday.”
I studied Rebecca’s wrist.
No bracelet.
Then I saw something around her neck.
A small silver medal.
Round.
Simple.
Cassian saw it at the same moment.
His expression changed again.
“What?”
He reached beneath his shirt and pulled out a thin black cord.
A matching silver medal rested against his chest.
Margaret whispered, “What is that?”
“My mother gave me this when I was sixteen.”
He turned his own medal over.
A tiny Saint Christopher image covered the back.
“She had two.”
“Who got the other one?”
Cassian didn’t answer.
He didn’t have to.
I already knew.
“Dominic.”
“Yes.”
My skin went cold.
Maybe Rebecca hadn’t just been frightened by a man claiming to speak for Cassian.
Maybe she had been shown something that proved he belonged inside Cassian’s most trusted circle.
Margaret touched the photograph.
“But why would Rebecca be wearing Dominic’s medal?”
“She wouldn’t.”
Cassian turned the photograph over.
Something had been written on the back.
Not a message.
A date.
Three days earlier.
And one line beneath it.
HE STILL HAS THE SECOND ONE.
Cassian stood.
“Dominic is coming here.”
Margaret looked alarmed.
“You called him?”
“I asked him to come before the ceremony.”
I stared at him.
“He’s on his way?”
Cassian checked his watch.
“He should already be here.”
As though summoned by the words, footsteps sounded beyond the chapel office.
Slow.
Unhurried.
A man appeared in the doorway.
Mid-fifties.
Silver at the temples.
Dark overcoat.
Perfectly calm.
Dominic Shaw looked from Cassian to Margaret.
Then to me.
Finally, his gaze dropped to the photograph on the table.
His smile disappeared.
Cassian held it up.
“You told me you had never met Evelyn Aldridge.”
Dominic’s eyes moved to Evelyn’s face.
Then Rebecca’s.
A long second passed.
Cassian’s voice became almost gentle.
“So tell me why you’re standing behind both of them in this photograph.”
I looked again.
I had been so focused on Rebecca that I hadn’t noticed the reflection in the glass door behind her.
A man.
Silver hair.
Dark overcoat.
May you like
Dominic Shaw.
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