The Rules of the Red - 2014 Watty Award Winner |✓|

Chapter Fourteen - Part Two

“You and I are gonna go home for now,” I replied, with a neat composure that was unwavering. “It would be dangerous to rush into a decision. I just need a little time to think.”

I left the elevator and Ethan paused before catching up with me. I knew he was worried, but I didn’t care. Because already, the workings of a plan were beginning to take shape…

*  *  *

Mrs. Trentley was there, waiting at the front door, to greet me upon my arrival home. Ethan had dropped me off, along with the sworn promise of his silence that no one else would know what had happened at the morgue – not by his tongue at least. And for now, I believed him, taking small comfort in the reassurance that I could now make use of the renewed autopsy report in my own way. And if I discovered that my theory were true – if Paris truly had murdered my father in cold blood – she was going to pay.

I would make sure of it.

“Mrs. T,” I hailed, as she took my jacket.

“Yes, Naomi?” was her carefree, even reply.

“I need you to make a copy of a document, and then have it sent to my mother tomorrow – but you don’t have to overnight it. In fact, why don’t you send it to Hasting first, and have it mailed from there?”

I needed time to think and prepare, and doing things this way would ensure that I had plenty of it.

“I’ll have it done tomorrow,” my butler replied, with a disinterested shrug.

“You say that,” I said, placing a light, unaccustomed hand on her arm. “But, you’ll get curious while you’re copying it, and then you’ll decide to read it. And you’ll come across some very damning evidence that may change your mind on whether you should even send it at all.”

“And why would I do that? It’s not any of my business.” she asked, looking, apprehensive.

“Because this is a game-changer, Mrs. Trentley. It has the potential to change everything.” I said, as she followed me to the edge of the staircase.

“Here,” I reached into my bag and removed the folded sheaf of papers, handing them to her. “Just make the copy and send it to my mother, but don’t tell anyone. We can talk after that.”

And I began to climb my way up the winding staircase, while Mrs. Trentley remained motionless, with the papers clutched in her hand.

“Looks like you’ve finally found that bone you were digging for.” she remarked. “Well tell me, child, was it worth it?”

“I don’t know yet,” I called back, over my shoulder. “But I’ll let you know when I figure that out.”