Page 34 of One Shade of Gray
“To talk some sense intoyou.”
I gestured at the Taser marks on my stomach. “And you had to do this? You couldn’t chat with me in my living room over tea like civilizedmen?”
He entered the room and closed the door. I stood thinking I was probably about to have to defend myself. In all my years, fighting was never a skill I wanted to learn. I could throw a punch when necessary, but I’d never gone out of my way to learn the various styles that passed in and out of fashion through theyears.
“Sit down, I don’t intend to hurt you, yet.” He threw himself in a metal chair off to the side of the cot I woke upon.
“What do you want with me? Are you even Izzy’s brother or did you use that as a ruse to get tome?”
He shifted forward so his elbows braced on top of his thighs and narrowed his eyes. “What do youthink?”
I scanned his features. Their eyes were the same and yet different. It disconcerted me I couldn’t get an accurate read on him as I was usually very good at that sort ofthing.
He waited, and I didn’t answer, which I supposed he took for not knowing. “I am Izzy’s brother. My name is Jake as Imentioned.”
“So, what is this about? Did the Americans decide I’m a threat again and send you to bring mein?”
He shook his head, and then let it hang down. “No, this is allpersonal.”
I failed to see the logic in his plan. How was this meant to play out? “Are you intending to threaten me into staying away from your sister? I assure you, I already tried pushing her away, and it failedspectacularly.”
The press of her hands on my chest flashed in my head. I dropped my gaze so he couldn’t see that there. It was mine. She wasmine.
He stood and scooted his chair closer, so only a foot of space lay between our knees. I tried to stop the shiver in mine from the chilly room. “I have no intention of threatening you. You’re going to stay away from her all on yourown.”
“And how isthat?”
Anger was replacing any sense of honor I had in dealing with her brother. Kidnapping people, tasing them, that was the action of a lunatic. That sort of person didn’t deserve my respect, no matter who his relationswere.
He reached around and pulled out an envelope from his back pocket. I watched carefully in case he had some sort of needle or weaponized powder stashed inside. He pulled up the flap and lifted out a piece of paper. It had already been folded and refolded several times. I glanced between the paper and his eyes, waiting for the answer. Each action he made was slow, precise, and deliberate. I had no doubt this was his end game. Something I was supposed torealize.
He opened the paper, folded horizontally in three parts, and handed it to me. It was an old picture, a photocopy of a painting. The style was from the era when I was born, and by the shape and size it looked to be a miniature. A small, framed portrait people had made to give to family or potential spouses in myday.
“Why are you showing methis?”
He pointed to the paper. “Do you recognizeher?”
I scanned her features, trying to associate something with my past or my memory. Nothing. I didn’t recognize a single thing about the girl. “No, I’m afraid I don’t know who sheis.”
“Lookagain.”
I glanced back down, my patience running out. “No, I don’t knowher.”
He smiled, it was the smile of a man who had just delivered a check mate. The one given just before a killing blow. “That is SibylVane.”
I replayed his words in my head and glanced back down to the image on the page. The woman had brown hair like I recall Sibyl having, but this round faced-creature stirred no memory in me. “This isn’tSibyl.”
“It is,” he said. “I assure you, I have impeccablesources.”
I flicked the paper at him and he let it fall to the floor between us, not even flinching to grasp it out of the air. “You may have sources, but I was there. I knew her personally. That’s nother.”
He pulled another piece of paper from the envelope, a small gray square, and I snatched it from him tolook.
The obituary spoke about Sibyl, but I don’t remember having ever seen an obituary for her. The image in the painting was exactly the same as the girl in a photo accompanying thearticle.
I stared at it, rereading for as long as I dared. When I looked back up, Jake sat watching me carefully. “Do you recognize hernow?”
I shook my head. “I’ve never seen this woman in mylife.”
