Dark Notes(108)

The look of devastation on her beautiful face threatens to bring me to my knees.

I strengthen my stance and gesture Shane over. “Your brother’s going to take Schubert.”

Her arms tighten around the cat as a sob climbs up from deep in her chest.

I cradle her face. “I’m so sorry, Ivory. I would give anything to make this easier.” I press a kiss to her forehead. “We’ll bury him in the backyard. I’ll build a memorial there, whatever you want, okay?”

Tears drip down her cheeks, mixing with the blood on her lips as she stares at the cat.

I nod at Shane.

After a few cries of protest, she releases her hold. Shane bundles the body against his chest, his face falling.

I turn her away, guide her into the bathroom, and draw the bath. “I’ll be right back.”

Grabbing a towel, I step out, close the door behind me, and meet Shane’s eyes. “Who knows you’re here?”

He flinches. “No one. I swear.”

His promise means nothing to me.

“Go out the back door and get the medicine from my GTO. Park the Honda in the garage. You’ll find a tarp and duct tape in there.” I drop the towel beside the body. “Grab whatever else we might need.”

If he’s going to run, he would’ve done it by now. If he changes his mind, I won’t be able to stop him. So I leave him there with the cat in his arms and hope he’s smarter than he looks.

In the bathroom, I give Ivory some sleeping pills, roll up my sleeves, and silently, soothingly, bathe her into drowsiness. I hate sedating her, but I don’t want to leave her awake and grieving by herself. She needs to be comatose for however many hours it takes to deal with the body.

The urge to call my parents itches at me. Mom could stay with her while I’m gone. But making them accessories to disposing of a body is not an option.

When a fist knocks on the bathroom door, some of the tension eases from my shoulders.

I gaze down at Ivory, her skin pink from the heat of the water and her eyes hooded with fatigue. “If I leave you here for a few minutes, are you going to drown?”

Her lashes lift, and a hint of a small smile touches her lips. “If you don’t stop hovering, I might drown you.”

There’s my girl. I press a kiss to her brow, her nose, her mouth. Then I head toward the door.

“Emeric?”

I turn, my pulse singing at the sound of her voice.

She leans her head back on the ledge. “Thank you.”

I doubt she’s thanking me for a specific thing. Her gratefulness is always all-encompassing. Christ, I love this girl.

“I’ll be right back.” I slip out and shut the door.

Shane already has the body wrapped in tarp and duct tape. He sweeps the towel over the wood floors, clearing away any urine or blood, his expression colorless and etched in torment.

I step beside him. “You look like you’ve done this before.”

“Never.”

Fear, shock, revulsion…there are so many overpowering emotions in that whisper, I believe him.

With the body bagged, we haul it down the hall. I leave him at the stairs and return to Ivory.

By the time I dress her, give her the medicine, and tuck her into bed, she’s deep asleep beneath the weight of sedation.

I spot check the wood floors for blood with each pass I make through the room. I’ll do a thorough cleaning later, but to the unassuming eye, there’s no indication a crime was committed here.

I change into a Henley and jeans and find Shane sitting on the top step, staring into space.

“Let’s finish this.” My voice makes him jump.

A few minutes later, the body is loaded in the Honda in the garage.

I hand Shane a shovel. “Where’s Schubert?”

He takes it, his glare digging into the closed trunk of the car. “Shouldn’t we deal with that first?”

“At dusk.” I head toward the hall that leads to the back yard. “We need to talk.”

Outside, the sun slips behind the monolithic tower of my estate, fading the sky into streaks of violet.

Surrounded by oaks and blooming bushes, I set Schubert’s body on the ground and direct Shane to a spot beside the concrete bench in the garden. “Where have you been for the past three months?”

He stabs the shovel through the mulch and starts the hole. “Not in New Orleans.”

If I press, he’ll likely lie about his location. He said he flew in. Maybe that will help the PI track him this time.

I sit on the bench and take in his receding blond hair, pale complexion, and the stupidity emanating from his dull eyes. Hard to believe he’s related to Ivory.

With a deep breath, I rest my elbows on my spread knees. “Tell me how this came about.”

Working the shovel through the dirt, he says quietly, tiredly, “Lorenzo called me yesterday, said he was released—” He stops, glances up at me, hesitating. “He was in jail for burglary.”

He’s either f*cking with me or he doesn’t know my involvement in Lorenzo’s arrest. As dumb as he is, I’m leaning toward the latter. That means he didn’t want to mention the burglary conviction for another reason. I can guess why.

He returns to his task. “He called me when he got out, said he lost his apartment and needed fast money.” He shovels more dirt, avoiding my eyes. “I owed him my life, so I offered him a solution and flew home to help him.”