She looks from the box to my face, anxiety flashing in her teary eyes. “What’s this?”
“Don’t worry.” My chuckle is dry. “It’s not an engagement ring.”
Her curiosity must get the better of her, because after a few seconds’ hesitation, she flips back the lid.
The expression on her face isn’t gratitude or relief as I expected. When she looks at the square gold ring with the sun rays engraved around the ruby and the gold tooth still encrusted in blood that lies on the white velvet, horror distorts her features. Instead of looking at me as her hero, the villain who’ll slay her enemies, she looks at me as if I’m the monster.
That won’t do. Not at all.
I take the box and close it with a calm I don’t feel. I slide it back in my pocket so that I can get rid of the evidence now that she knows what I’ve done. For her.
Pinning her in place with my hands on her hips, I say, “Don’t pretend you’re not a little relieved.”
“You killed them,” she utters breathlessly. “That’s why you left.”
“Your brother sent them after you. He bugged the toy your mother bought for Noah.”
Shock passes through her eyes.
“He planted a tracking device in the eye. When it died, he lost your trail.”
“The dinosaur,” she whispers.
“When did your mother give it to you?”
She stares distractedly at a point over my shoulder. “She sent it with Jazz just before I ran.”
I narrow my eyes. “So Jazz knew about your plans.”
She looks back at me quickly. “She had no idea where I was going. We thought it was better if she didn’t know.”
“Why is there no hospital record of Noah’s birth?”
Her shock changes into surprise. “Why do you ask?”
“I checked. There’s no records of his birth, only the fake birth certificate.”
“I had a home birth with a midwife. She let me have the baby at her place because I couldn’t give birth at the shelter where I stayed, and I couldn’t risk going to a hospital.”
My gut twists inside-out. “Something could’ve gone wrong.”
Her gaze is steady on mine. “It didn’t.”
“Why Noah?”
She frowns. “What?”
“Why did you choose Noah and not a family name?”
“The men in my family didn’t inspire me. I wasn’t going to call my son after one of them.”
I couldn’t agree more.
“Besides,” she continues, “I like Noah. Don’t you?”
“It’s a good name.”
She looks down at me from her meagre height. “Good.” And then her composure changes. “Condoms.”