Fifty-five“It wasn’t like that.”
Hector de Vile stood stock still in the Mays’ hallway and listened.
Silence.
“Then how was it?”
He made sure the door closed behind the departing housekeeper. Then he stood exactly where he was, silent and motionless as the Rockies, listening to the words floating down the hall.
He could imagine Cyrus shaking his head at the offer of more meat. “Misty . . .”
His voice pleaded a warning.
Then Misty’s voice, hoarse and cracked. “Lani. She knows. She knows what you’ve done.”
She sounded close to a breaking point. “I don’t want to lose you too, Cyrus. I can’t lose you.”
De Vile heard the sound of a dining chair being pushed back in haste, a screech of wooden legs on oak floor.
“It’s too late for that, Misty.”
She continued as if he hadn’t spoken.
“T
