Страница 127 из 222
“How the hell do you know she was pregnant?”
“One of her labs was accidentally entered in Laura’s medical chart. At first, I thought it was Laura’s, until I looked up the medical record attached to it. Amelia Blackthorne. HCG positive two weeks before she committed suicide.”
“Laura said--”
“I don’t give a shit what Laura said. The woman just walked into a crowded room naked. You think she knows what the hell is going on with her family? Aside from her precious Lucian …”
“You’re jealous.”
“Jealous of what? You and the Devil of Bonesalt? You can have your murdering piece of shit. And if you don’t believe me? Ask Giulia. Amelia never left those pills where Roark could reach them. Never. Roark was afraid to come into her room because of those fucking dolls.”
Giulia told me the same thing the first night I stayed in that room. She said that Roark refused to come into the room, that he was terrified of the doll on the nightstand. Still, that doesn’t implicate Lucian in any murder—Amelia, or Roark’s. Assuming Roark is, in fact, dead.
“You’re making assumptions about him without proof. You don’t even know that Roark is dead, and you’re willing to accuse Lucian?”
“You don’t know anything about him. He’s got his ugly face so far up your dress, you’re blind to everything around you. I’ve seen men show up at the house. Sometimes? They don’t leave. Did you know this castle is built on a big pile of bones?”
The unbidden memory of the man being escorted by Makaio and Rand into the elevator flashes behind my eyes. The one I’m certain was Franco. The horrific look on his face when the elevator doors closed, as if he suddenly realized something. I didn’t recall having seen him leave.
The first tendrils of doubt crawl over the back of my neck. “Why are you still here, then?”
“It doesn’t matter. And whether you believe me, or not, I don’t give a shit. But my advice? Pay closer attention.”