Chapter 1

Ellie

I pressed my ear to the door, resting my hands flat against the heavy, massive oak that my mother had picked out herself. Daddy hadn’t had a single objection, just happy to make her happy. I could clearly remember sitting on the floor at five, watching people come in and hand carve the scene depicted on the wood. A fleet of angels slaughtering a band of heretics. It always made me smile.

I couldn’t hear a thing other than some banging and mumbles, along with a sigh that I knew belonged to my father.

“Daddy?” I called again.

“Just a minute, Ellie,” he said through the door. “Bobby is cleaning up.”

“I don’t mind a mess.”

“You’d mind this one,” he muttered almost too low for me to hear. “Just wait.”

I sighed, backing up and crossing my arms. As always, I carefully stepped only on the red patches on the long runner that stretched across our endless hallway—also picked out by Mom. I didn’t worry about my boots ruining anything, but I liked to think I had more luck on my side if I kept with the red bits. Things tended to go my way as long as I kept up with rituals.

I whistled low, bounding on my feet as I mimicked the sounds of the birds I could hear outside, filling the evening air with songs. Orange light poured in through the window, brightening up the sea of paintings that had hung from the walls since long, long before my time. I tried not to look at them, mostly.

The doors opened toward me, so I stepped back to avoid losing teeth. Bobby stood on the other side, nodding me in. His suit had wrinkled, and he’d lost his tie.

“Afternoon,” I said to him, strolling past and into my father’s office.

I had no idea what he could have meant by mess, as everything looked perfect as always. His desk mostly had pictures of Mom and I, his dogs, his parents, and just one of my dog. A single file laid at the center of his desk. Closed.

“How was your day?” Daddy asked as he came around from his desk to hug me. As always, he could wrap me up so much that it felt like nothing could ever get me.

“Great,” I answered. “Mom and I found a new rug for the library. She sent me to come get… you…”

Shifting my foot, I noticed my boot slightly sticking to the hardwood. I looked down at the red smear now on the bottom of my boot. I stared at it; my nose wrinkling from the metallic scent.

“Bobby,” Dad hissed. “You missed a spot, you fucking idiot. Fix it.” Almost without missing a breath, Dad turned back to me and said, “I’m so sorry, Ellie. I spilled my dinner.”

“Dinner,” I repeated as Bobby kindly asked me to move, then bent down to scrub the bottom of my boot. Dad held my arms so I wouldn’t fall. “You already ate? Mom sent me to get you. The cooks are almost finished.”

Dad smiled, patting my shoulder as Bobby released my foot and went on with cleaning the floor. “Sorry, honey. I got caught up in work. How about you let me make it up to you with breakfast tomorrow? We’ll get up nice and early like the devil himself made you enjoy, and I’ll make you some pancakes.”

A grin spread on my face. “Really? You’ll make them?”

“Of course. It’ll be a whole thing.”

“I would love that.”

He tapped me under the chin, then narrowed his eyes in scrutiny. “You’ve looked so blue all week. I was going to ask you on Tuesday, but I wanted to give you the chance to tell me. Did something happen? Do I have to talk to someone?”

I smiled at my way too sweet father. The corners of his eyes crinkled in worry. He’d always done that, but I couldn’t stop noticing every sign of aging on him. It hadn’t been a thing until he’d turned sixty. Every second felt like a ticking clock. I would find myself wondering if he’d had that gray patch in his beard for a while or if it had just come in. Same with his hair, since he had cut it even shorter. Too much gray and too much change. I didn’t want to think about the days of my life where I wouldn’t have him anymore.

“It’s nothing,” I said. “Not a big deal.”

“Tell me anyway.” He picked up the ends of my hair at my hips. He tugged likely at it, letting it go again. “If you did something…”

“No, it’s not that. I haven’t heard from any of the girls in a little while. I know they’re in their last year of college and things are busy, but I thought at least Grace would have called.”

Dad tugged on my hair again. “Ya know what, I bet she’ll call soon. The year just started up. Things get tough in college.”

I wouldn’t know, but I didn’t comment. He didn’t like it. “She didn’t call during the summer either.”

“There must be a very good reason. Don’t be too upset about it.”

Nah, why would I have been upset about the fact that all my friends took off for school years ago, leaving me at home and by myself? What self-respecting almost twenty-two-year-old would have been caught dead on some beautiful college campus with all her friends? Not me.

“Now, you go have a nice time with Mom and let me finish up here.”

I’d only seen him for a total of three minutes the whole day, but I couldn’t really say no. “Okay. I’ll be up at dawn.”

He rolled his hazel eyes at me—a mirror of my own. “I know you will, you little monster. Go eat.”

I nodded and turned to walk away. Before I did, I saw the rag in Bobby’s hand. A healthy sized red blotch now stained the fabric. I looked over at the desk, then the trash can. I didn’t see any food containers. I opened my mouth to ask about it, but then closed it again. He told me he’d been eating, so he’d been eating. I didn’t need to disrespect him with an interrogation.

The second I got out of the office, the doors closed behind me. I stood there, not hesitating to tie up my hair into a messy bun on my head. So much easier to deal with than when I had it down, but it made Dad happy to see my long, flowing strawberry blond hair that made me look just like his mom. Really, I’d seen the pictures. We’d done a side by side test once or twice and I hadn’t even been able to guess which girl standing in front of Big Ben had been me. The one on the left, as it turned out.

I took my boots off, padding down the hall, two flights of stairs, and another hall before I got to the kitchen. The staff set three places at the long table, but I waved them off and said we only needed two. Immediately, they took away the many pieces that went at my dad’s spot at the head of the table.

I set my boots down at the corner, then hopped into one of the purple and black balloon chairs and crossed my legs before I pulled my sweater off and tossed it onto one of the empty chairs, freeing myself. I personally liked wearing shorts and a tank-top for early fall, but Daddy always got a little uptight if I wore anything even slightly revealing.

Soon enough, Mom walked into the room. She’d changed into something a little less fancy than a smart skirt and a blouse with a jacket. She’d thrown on shorts and one of Dad’s sweaters. Like me, she had tied her blond hair up, but in a ponytail instead of a bun.

Mom stopped, putting her hands on her sides. “Where the hell is your father? I had them make him chili.”

“He already ate,” I said. It sounded like a lie. “He said sorry. You can have breakfast with us tomorrow morning if you want to.”

She grumbled and took a seat across from me. She poured herself a glass of wine but went for her water instead. The servers came back out to fill our plates and I waited for them to be finished, staring at the many paintings in the almost disturbingly opulent room. It had been the same all my life, so I couldn’t really claim it felt unlived in. The room felt cold, not the sort of place a child had ever played with the high ceilings and dark windows and cold hard floors.

“Did your dad seem like he was in an okay mood?” Mom asked. “Or was he all tense?”

“He didn’t seem all that tense. Why?”

She shrugged, stirring her bowl. “I know he’s been worried about a shipment coming in. He wouldn’t tell me much about it, but he said the police have been sticking their nose in. Don’t tell him I told you that.”

Well, I couldn’t just let it lie there. “The police? Is there a good reason they’re around?”

“Same reason as always. They’ve had it out for the Locke family for a hundred years almost.”

“To be fair, how many of us have been arrested or caught in the middle of a very suspicious looking murder?”

Mom narrowed her eyes at me. “We only get into messes if that’s the only option. Sometimes, people stick their nose in where it doesn’t belong, and they end up dead. Is that really our fault?”

I let that one go. If I stopped to think about all of the fishy stuff that happened around my family, then it would drive me insane. I couldn’t afford to be insane.

I had the butter knife in my fingers, letting it teeter from one side to the other. I made sure that every time the tip hit the tablecloth, it landed inside the little square on the pattern. I did it exactly ten times before I could put the knife down and go back to eating.

One of my father’s assistants, Aaron, walked into the room while we discussed plans for shopping later. He hurried over to my mother and I knew to stay silent while he bent down to hear ear to say something. I could only hear him whispering, and he nodded at me before he left again.

“I want you home tomorrow,” Mom said to me. “Don’t leave the house for anything.”

“I was going to go—”

“I don’t care. You’re not leaving until I tell you that you can. Do you understand me?”

She had that harsh tone in her voice that told me not to fight her. I nodded, agreeing to her terms.

I caught sight of my boots on the floor against the wall. Bobby had missed a spot, leaving a tiny splotch of red on the heel. Couldn’t think of a single food that might have made that shade of red, smelled that metallic, or felt that tacky to step on.

I reached for the wine on the table, pulled the cork, and drank straight from the bottle.