Right now, her younger self was standing in the cemetery, hating her father, listening to his words, feeling lost, reeling from her belief that Nora was taking her last parent from her, not knowing that he really would be gone soon. That moment in the cemetery, when he spoke those words, Time heals all wounds. But it won’t work if you don’t give time a chance, had been the anchor that kept her from drifting away, the gravity that had pulled her to him for that hug—the hug right before the drone had pierced the gentle morning with its commands to step away. It would shoot him and bring him to the ground seconds later.
*
There was nothing to do but wait. While Adeline waited, sitting in the chair, thinking, sleep overtook her.
*
When she woke, Adeline felt like a bus had run over her.
She tried to push up from the chair. Her arms were weak. Her mind wouldn’t focus, the thoughts slow, like she had been drugged.
It was the stress of it all. It was consuming her, pulling her down like a boat anchor tied to her feet. She wasn’t ready to sink. She was going to fight. And it had to be right now. She was running out of time.
What happened next?
Elliott—he would be the first to go to the police station. And she had to tell him.
She called him, and he answered on the first ring.
“I was about to call you,” he said.
“About?”
“Last night was all wrong. I shouldn’t have even showed it to the others. We should just go forward with Absolom Two. Who cares if they approve or not? It would be easier with Nora and Sam’s help, but we can figure out—”
“Nora is dead.”
Silence stretched out on the line. When he spoke, Elliott’s voice carried the tone of true surprise.
“I… Are you serious? When? How—how do you know?”
“The police were here.”
“Is she missing or—”
“She’s dead, Elliott. And the police have arrested Sam for her murder. You should go down to the station to help him. Take Tom Morris with you. And we need to hire an actual criminal attorney. A good one. Someone with experience in complex celebrity trials.”
*
Adeline showered and got dressed and checked her email. As usual, her inbox was overflowing. There was an email from Hana Kim, the CEO of Syntran, requesting a meeting. Adeline had been putting her off for months. It still wasn’t the right time. Adeline wrote a short note saying that she was attending to an important issue and couldn’t return emails, set it as an autoresponder, and sent it to all of her unread messages.
Next, she called a private security firm and hired them to interface with the police, to use any resources necessary to learn the details of the investigation. She needed every advantage she could get. Maybe there was some small detail in the evidence that had been gathered that would give her an edge. Or some clue about who was going to use Absolom Two.
She drank coffee on her covered porch, watching the sun on the horizon, feeling the weight of time bearing down on her. Right now, in an interview room, the two detectives were asking her younger self what happened last night. That young woman’s concern was turning to fear. Standing there, the sun warming her face, sipping the hot coffee, the fear was starting to grip Adeline too.
*
Shortly before eleven, a text message arrived from Elliott. It was addressed to Adeline, Constance, and Hiro.
I’m sure you have all heard about Nora. We need to talk. Sam’s still at the police station. Let’s meet there for lunch. He thinks we might be in danger.
A second passed, an icon indicating that he was still typing. Another message appeared.
And he wants to figure out who killed Nora.
Hiro texted back, saying he would be there. Constance said she would too, but she’d be late.
Adeline typed out the message she knew she had to send: I’ll bring sushi.
In her home office, she typed out a short note:
LOOK UNDER THE TABLE
She cut the page into a small rectangle, the size of the slip inside a fortune cookie, and placed it in her pocket.
She wanted to cry as she wrote the second note. It was longer, and she knew the words in it would cut her father open like a knife. She had never seen this note. She knew only that it informed her father that if he didn’t confess, more evidence of his daughter’s guilt would be given to the police.
As it turned out, she didn’t need to know the exact words. She only needed to write what came to her—because that’s what had already happened.
She placed the note in a small envelope and sealed it. She didn’t worry about DNA or fingerprints because she knew her father wouldn’t turn it over to the police. He loved his daughter too much.