My phone pinged in my pocket with the cheerful notification sound I had always associated with small good things, messages from friends, confirmations of plans. I put it back without looking.
“He’s not coming back until Monday, is he.”
Victor was standing in the kitchen doorway, leaning on a cane but standing, the supposedly bedridden man Brady had described to me as basically a vegetable and completely dependent, upright on his own two feet.
“No,” I said. “No one is.”
He nodded with the grim confirmation of someone for whom this is not news. “Classic Brady move. Cowardice dressed up as delegation.” He shuffled to a kitchen chair and lowered himself into it. “Check your bank account, Jade.”
Voir la suite sur la page suivante:
