Nathaniel Cross came over to our apartment without any notice.
A car drove in and stopped in the driveway at 10:45 a.m. He stepped out like he owned the place. He didn't call or at least send a text. Nothing was sent through Adrian.
I was in the sitting room pretending to read when Mrs. Delacroix brought him in.
I had been expecting this visit since that brief phone call. I still did not know exactly what he knew and what he suspected. In my experience, most people who suspected things never dug deep enough to find proof. But Nathaniel was different. I learnt that during the eleven seconds we spoke on the phone.
He went to Adrian and greeted him first. I heard the easy conversation of two old friends, a hand on the shoulder, a few quiet words, and then Adrian’s rare real laugh.
Then t
