“Don’t,” I said.
“I was going to say I’m not sorry.”
“I know you’re not.”
Farrow laughed, low, almost soundless. “Then why stop me from talking about it?”
“Because if you say it out loud, I have to do something with it.”
He set his mug beside mine. The two of them touched at the base, ceramic to ceramic. He looked at the contact and then at me.
“I’ll take the first watch,” I said. “You sleep until midnight.”
“I won't sleep until midnight.”
“Then lie down until midnight.”
He picked up his mug and walked past me, touching my cheek briefly with his free hand.
When I returned to the parlor, it had settled into working quiet.
Cabot’s pen had returned to the notebook. He’d set the laptop aside for now.
Wiley was the opposite. He leaned in with the laptop, opening tabs and scrolling through documents.
He had not spoken since the call with Samuel. I let him work.
Half an hour later, Farrow went upstairs to bed. A few minutes later, Wiley stopped typing. He scrolled forward and back a few times, and then that stopped, too.
“Wiley.”
He didn’t answer.
I raised my voice slightly. “Wiley.”
“Hold on.”
I moved behind his shoulder
The screen displayed a state filing site. He had an articles-of-incorporation document open. The digital signature at the bottom was Henry Harcourt Benton.
I read the name and waited for Wiley to tell me what it meant.
He opened a second tab. It was the same site, but a different filing. He scrolled to the signature line. It was a different name.
“Same registered agent,” Wiley said. His voice was soft. “Same P.O. box in Burlington, Vermont. Henry’s defunct LLC and fourcurrent Onyx Bay entities all ran through the same Vermont mailbox. They didn’t think anyone would look this far back.”
Cabot had stopped writing. “Henry,” he said. Then, more quietly, “Oh, Henry.”
I was already reaching for my phone.
Eamon picked up on the second ring.
“I need you back here.”
“How long do I have?”
“Twenty minutes ago.”