The Winter Sister(67)

“Well,” I said, “can I just look through the stuff you do have?”

Half a smile wormed up his face. “Sorry,” he said again. “I don’t have it anymore.”

“Any of it?” The question barged out before I could balance my tone, and his eyes flickered with recognition of his power.

“Any of it,” he confirmed.

“Well, where did it go?” Ben asked.

Tommy glanced at Ben, but then snapped his eyes back to me. My skin grew cold beneath his stare.

“I gave it all away,” Tommy said.

“Where?” I asked, and I was surprised to hear Ben’s voice overlap my own with the same question.

Tommy’s smile grew wider, filling out both his cheeks. “I’m not at liberty to say,” he taunted.

“That’s bullshit,” Ben said.

“Is it?”

Tommy reached toward the coffee table. He placed his fingers on a shiny issue of Gun World and moved it a fraction of an inch. Apparently satisfied, he leaned back in his chair and resumed his amused watch of my face.

“Well, did you pawn it or something?” I prompted. “None of it was valuable.”

He chuckled. “Value’s in the eye of the buyer,” he said. “Don’t you think so, Ben?”

Tommy turned his head sharply to look at Ben, whose eyes widened like a kid called on in class. “Uh,” he said, stretching out the syllable as he returned Tommy’s gaze, “I wouldn’t know.”

Tommy nodded. “Sure you wouldn’t,” he said.

I looked between the two of them, watched them glare at each other like ancient rivals, and my stomach churned. There was a glimmer of history in that stare, as if this wasn’t the first time they’d shared it, and Ben’s nostrils flared as he breathed.

“What is he talking about?” I asked him. “Do you know something about this?”

Ben didn’t answer. He kept his eyes bolted to Tommy’s.

“Ben,” I tried again, a note of panic rising in my voice. “Do you know where Persephone’s things are?”

He broke the stare, the spell, whatever was passing unsaid between them, and he met my eyes with a squint in his own. “No,” he said, sounding offended by the question. “Of course not. He’s crazy.”

“Crazy man with all the answers,” Tommy said, and we turned to look at him. “According to you two, at least. Why else would you both come banging on my door today?”

His eyes flicked toward the box. “What’s in there anyway?”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said, drawing the package closer. “What did you want with her stuff in the first place? Or was it always your plan to sell it?”

Tommy rolled his eyes—bored, it seemed, to be back on that topic. “Your sister and me were the same.” He leaned forward, raked his eyes across my face. “I deserved to have some reminders of her. And your mother agreed.”

My pulse thrummed against my wrist, but I focused on keeping my muscles as stiff and unyielding as possible. I was unwilling to give him the reaction he wanted—not even a twitch, not even a shaky inhalation.

Finally, he added, “I didn’t sell it until the money ran out.”

“What money?” Ben asked. “Your family didn’t have any money.”

“No, you’re right,” Tommy said. “My family wasn’t rich. Not like yours, Benji. Not like Daddy Emory in the big fancy house on the hill. Must be nice, huh?” He slid his hands over the armrests of his chair, petting them as if they were animals. “But I had ways of getting what I needed.”

I thought of the drugs he’d given to Mom, how her cupped hands were probably not the only ones he’d dropped some pills into. What other exchanges had he made? How much had he profited off of other people’s suffering?

“Okay,” I said, letting him hear my impatience as I tapped the box with my finger. “So your money ran out, and then what happened?”

He continued stroking the chair, tilting his head while he looked at me. “Like I said, I sold it all. To someone who needed it more than I did.”

Ben and I glanced at each other.

“To someone?” I asked. “Who? Who else could have possibly wanted her stuff?”

“Not wanted,” Tommy said. “Needed.” Then he slammed his eyes toward Ben. “You wouldn’t know about need—would you, Emory? Sylvie, though.” His gaze slinked back to my face. “She knows. She and Persephone both knew. Persephone needed more than you could ever give her, Benji. She didn’t need a joyride every other night behind her mother’s back. She needed companionship.”

“And that was you, huh?” Ben said. “A real companion?”

Tommy shrugged. “I let her know what she needed to know. I let her know that somebody saw her.”

“You let her know you stalked her,” Ben said. “She showed me all those notes, you know. She thought you were pathetic.”

Tommy continued, unfazed by Ben’s words. “I see you, too, Sylvie,” he said. “And—I have to tell you—you’re not going to make it.”

My lips parted, the breath between them unraveling. “What?”

Tommy nodded. “If you keep going like this,” he said, “you’re not going to make it. There’s so much pain inside you, I can see it clear as day. Your inner feng shui—it’s all fucked up.”