Page 66 of The Darkest Chase
“I ate at home,” she says. “Grandpa was baking and I can never turn down his muffins. He loves to try out new recipes from the bakery next door.”
“Your grandfather likes to bake?” I ask as we make our way to a secluded corner booth. The café is mostly empty by now, just a few people with their laptops, and it’s easy to stake out a spot where we can talk privately.
We settle into the leather seats across from each other under the string lights above.
“I’m not sure if he likes it so much as he got used to it when he was stuck with me. Cooking in general, I mean,” she says wryly. “He just turned out to be pretty good at it. We mostly take turns, unless it’s crunch time on an important order, and then we live off takeout and frozen pizzas.”
“The life of the creative.” I lean back in my seat, loosening the neck of my uniform shirt and watching her. “You care about him more than anything, don’t you?”
She starts, then smiles and ducks her head. “Is it that obvious? He’s always been there for me. He taught me everything I know about the woodworking trade…”
“No wonder you’re willing to do anything for him.”
That’s enough to wipe the smile off her face.
“…am I doing anything, though?” Her brows wrinkle together. “I didn’t find anything, Micah. He didn’t say anything strange, except when he was being weird at me and thinking I was, like, interested in him. I’m sorry I’m useless.”
“You’re not useless,” I growl. “This is a long game, Talia. You have to have patience. He won’t let anything slip in front of you, not immediately, but give it time and—”
“How would I know, though?” she asks firmly. “For all I know, something he said today was important, and I’m just too clueless to follow the trail.”
“Trust your instincts. You start to get a feel for things. If you have doubts, tell me.”
“I guess.” Her straw whistles softly as she pokes it in and out of the lid of her drink, her eyes downcast. “Today was mostly business. He gave me a tour of the house and talked about what he wants. He said the mansion feels like a human display case, and he wants it to feel more like a home. He wants it to feel smaller. Whatever else is going on, I think he’s struggling with his brothers being gone.”
“People are complex creatures.” I sip my coffee, turning my thoughts over, then continue. “The worst person on earth can fall in love. Save a life. Change the world. The biggest saints can be vile. Selfish as hell. Give them the wrong crusade and they’ll destroy thousands. They may have the best intentions, but who they are or what they stand for doesn’t matter. All that matters is the end result.”
“And the end result for Xavier is that he kills people… even while he’s killing himself,” she whispers.
“Exactly.” I can’t stand that look on her face, the quiet realization of the ugly harshness of life, so I divert. “You mentioned a lead? And pictures?”
“Oh! Um, maybe. Just someone who might be sympathetic.” Talia brightens a bit and takes another sip of her drink before she fishes out her phone. She swipes to the photo album and passes it over without hesitation. “Joseph Peters. He’s a valet at the house. He just seemed worried about me being alone with Xavier, and he was nice about getting me out of there fast when I got uncomfortable and left. The servants see everything, I’m sure. Especially when we’re talking rich people who treat the hired help like they’re invisible.”
“Yeah.” I rub my chin, looking down and swiping through the photos. Just interior shots, nothing jumping out at me. I scroll through them quickly. “I think I remember who you’re talking about. I interviewed him after the maid’s death—Cora Lafayette—after all the bullshit with Aleksander and the truth came out.”
Her face falls. “Oh, yeah. I thought about that. But I dunno. I don’t think money would keep everyone loyal or their lips sealed. But I guess you have to be careful, because if I’m wrong, then Mr. Peters might screw us over.”
“Leave that part to me. I’m used to handling investigations delicately.” I pause to find a gentle smile for her, even if I can’t hold it very long. “Like I said, you’re far from useless. You’ve already found something on the first day.”
“Yay?” Talia glances away, then laughs. “I tried to convince myself this morning that I was a sexy superspy. But I think I’m more Velma than Kim Possible.”
I snort loudly. “No clue who Kim is, but Velma was sexy enough. Short skirt, cute glasses, plus that repressed look that said she was probably a frigging demon in the sheets.”
Talia freezes mid-reach for her drink, watching me with wide eyes. Her cheeks flush and I realize what I just said.
Fuck.
Now she knows I might have a thing for repressed girls who go wild when you tease them out of their shell.
Clearing my throat sharply, I avoid eye contact, focusing on my cooling mug of coffee and her phone—though I’m not really seeing the pictures now, other than a subconscious alertness for anything out of the ordinary.
“When are you meeting Xavier again?”
“I haven’t set a date yet. I kind of ran out of there and promised to email him once I had more comps ready.”
Sobering, I shoot her a frown. “He made you that uncomfortable?”
“It was kind of a lot.” Wincing, she frets her straw up and down, a grating squeaky noise. “He set up a private lunch in the garden. He kept staring at me. Asking if I want to know more about him and the way he said it…”