“I spoke to an old acquaintance of mine, Odette Fevre. It seems you might have been the last person to see Hermes alive. Such a coincidence, don’t you think? She called you Charlie Hall. Is that your real name? I’ve only ever heard you called the Charlatan.”
It just figured that Odette knew him. She had enough wealthy clients to have had to cross paths with local billionaire Lionel Salt. And Odette had implied to Charlie that she’d talked to someone about Hermes. Charlie ought to have immediately jumped to the worst possible conclusion.
At least Salt hadn’t recognized her. Of course, she’d been fifteen, just a kid. And it wasn’t like there’d have been anything special about that night for him. He’d probably killed lots of people before and since.
But if he thought blackmailing Charlie by holding the disappearance of Hermes over her head would work, he was far off the mark. After Rand, Charlie had learned that blackmail only gets worse with time. Also, she didn’t think Odette gave a shit if Charlie was a stone-cold killer, so long as she showed up for her shifts on time and kept the till balanced.
After the silence stretched long enough that he realized she wasn’t going to answer, he spoke again. “Speaking of coincidences, what are the chances that a well-known pilferer of magical books would find herself involved with a man who ran away with one of mine?”
“I do appreciate you calling me well-known,” Charlie said.
“My grandson certainly knew you, didn’t he?” Salt’s voice stayed level, but he clearly didn’t like her attitude. Probably he thought someone who’d peed in the woods, and who looked as though they’d had the kind of night people promise not to talk about outside of Vegas would have the grace to act ashamed.
“The late Edmund Carver,” she said. “My condolences.”
His eyes narrowed. “I believe you call him by his middle name. Odette described him in unmistakable detail, so let’s drop the charade.”
“Vince?” Charlie said, all innocence. “He dumped me yesterday afternoon. It looks like you just missed him.”
“I think you better get in the car,” Salt ground out, no longer trying to hide his anger. “We have a lot to discuss, and I don’t think either of us want to do it out here in the rain.”
So many young men of her acquaintance would be envious that she’d gotten an invitation to ride in the Rolls, but the idea chilled her blood. “I’m already wet, so no thanks. I’d only drip on your nice leather seat.”
Lionel Salt reached into the inside pocket of his wool coat and took out a matte black Glock. It matched the car perfectly.
The elderly man holding the umbrella didn’t so much as flinch.
“I’m afraid I am going to have to insist,” Salt said, pointing the barrel of the gun casually. Waving it toward her. Not aiming. Not yet.
It was broad daylight and they were standing in the middle of a parking lot. Anyone could have walked out of Blue Ruin. There weren’t many cars in the parking lot, but there weren’t none. The road running past wasn’t heavily trafficked, but vehicles passed every now and again. For Salt to be comfortable having his gun out reminded Charlie that he believed he could get away with anything.
It had been more than a decade since vomiting up beet juice and running had saved her life. The night had haunted her since, but drugs and time had blurred her memories into a kaleidoscopic nightmare instead of a recollection.
But the moment she’d seen Salt, that horror had surged back. She’d felt like a child again, running through the woods, monsters at her heels. She had no urge to go back to his big house and finish bleeding out on his library carpet.
“Under the circumstances, I really don’t think I should go with you,” she said, not moving.
“But you will,” he told her, circling around the Corolla toward her. “You’re a smart girl. You’ll make the smart choice.”
Charlie raised both her eyebrows. “Clearly you don’t know anything about me.”
As Lionel Salt glowered at her, she couldn’t help seeing the familial resemblance between him and Vince. They were both tall and had the same hard jaw and angry eyebrows. But where Vince had no shadow, Salt’s flickered behind him like a furious flame.
She noted its height, its profile when Salt turned, and wondered whose shadow he’d stolen, to finally be a gloamist himself.
“My daughter is waiting for us in the car,” Salt said, pointing the gun at Charlie with real intent now. “I’d prefer not to upset her. I’ll even pay you for your time. But this is your last opportunity to make the correct choice.”