CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
RHYS WAS SITTING ON the cold stone bench as he waited for the museum to open, doing a cryptic crossword to pass the time, when he sensed a presence descend beside him, like an angel of death.
Long minutes of silence passed, broken by a few false starts at conversation. Rhys kept his lips pressed together and kept doing his crossword. A hand came to rest on his knee. His pencil stopped moving on his paper, and he looked at the appendage but not at its owner.
"Why did you send your errand boy instead of coming yourself?" he said, finally taking pity on his companion, but still not looking at him.
After a second of hesitation, Dar spoke. "I don't think Jack would appreciate being described as my errand boy."
Rhys folded his paper and clutched it in his lap. Dar's han
