Fifteen
No one knew, no one but she and Leblanc.
And yet, he’d known.
And then he’d laughed at her. Gladys’s hands curled into fists in her lap, swaying slightly as her car took a corner a little fast.
And then he’d laughed at her great-grandfather. The man he’d murdered.
Checkmate.
He’d actually said it to her, like he’d known—the Queens had so much power on the board, but it was Kings who had to be checkmated to win. She tried to breathe. She hated chess. It was a stupid game.
Leblanc. She hadn’t talked, so it must have been him.
But he hadn’t told them everything, or she’d never have gotten close to the old man.
Had he warned the old man? Just because he wasn’t wearing the ring, didn’t mean he’d given it away.
But she knew he had. She’d seen it in his disgusting old gaze.
Che
