Page 8 of Now Until Forever
Only in the sense that becoming their leader meant she’d been able to control the narrative. Kenna Banbury had spent years dismantling them from the inside out after the massacre in Chicago that cost her the life of someone she’d considered a mentor. A man that Elizabeth, Eliana’s grandma, had spoken about.
“No urges to solve this murder?”
Eliana scrunched up her nose. “No, thankfully.” She smiled and took a sip of water. “I don’t want anything to do with it.”
“That’s a shame. I mean, you know, hewasupset lately.”
Did she know that?
“They weren’t making any progress on his research,” Sylvia continued. “They were beginning to think they’d never get anywhere with the—” She cut herself off, or so it seemed.
Eliana bit her lip, fighting the urge to ask about that. She refused to be manipulated into anything, even purely out of curiosity. She’d always been nosier than most people.
“Never mind.” Sylvia waved a hand. “I’ll…ah…alert the scientists that they can quit taking bets on how long it will take you to find the killer.”
Eliana started. “Are you serious?”
Sylvia tipped her head to the side, smiling. Her right earring glinted in the overhead light. “There’s already a whole lot of names on the spreadsheet. But don’t worry, I’ll tell them all you don’t have any intention of investigating.”
Why did the director look almost disappointed by that?
“As long as no one quits answering my questions when I have them,” Eliana said. “I was upfront about why I’m here.”
Sometimes Eliana wondered if they thought shewasher mother. Like she was some kind of reincarnation—which didn’t make sense anyway—and not a completely new person.
“In the spirit of being upfront, I wasn’t entirely sure about you when you agreed to take the job. But the Board isn’t often wrong about these things.” Sylvia smiled. “You’ve been an asset to the security team, and I’m happy to be completely wrong about you.”
Eliana wondered just how incorrect Sylvia would turn out to be. But as long as she got the answers she’d come here looking for, did it matter?
“I have something for you.” Sylvia touched the lid of the wooden box. “The Board of Governors for the Shrine met last week. When someone has been working here for a while, theygive that person a gift.” She paused. “I know you were hoping to get the head of security position, but it really is for the best that Tony take the job. Given who you are, the risk is too great for you to be in that role.”
Eliana managed to choke out, “I…understand.”
But did she?
All she knew was that Tony now had access to the vault, and she never would.
Sylvia slid the box toward her. “Wait until you’re alone to open it. What the Board bestows is personal, and for you alone. It’s an honor.”
Eliana figured that meant she was supposed to be effusive with gratitude. Maybe send them a fancy handwritten notecard. “Thank you.”
“I’m sure you want to get home and rest after this morning.” Sylvia started to get up from the chair, but hesitated. “Unless you’re going to do some research into Doctor Splitfield, in which case I could provide you with a copy of his personnel file? Under the purview of your position in security, of course.”
“All I want is to forget today happened.”
Sylvia stood. “Understandable.” Then she wandered out.
Eliana slid the box over and looked at the Ψ symbol branded onto the side. It looked like a cup, but with a lid. Or the letterI—a capital—with wings. A quick internet search on her phone told her it was the Greek letter psi, meaning “mind” or “soul.” The origin of the wordpsychologyin English.
Her mom would want to know about this as much as she’d want to know about the dead scientist. Which was why Eliana wasn’t going to bother them until their case was finished. Mom had told her many times how distraction could turn deadly, and she didn’t want that for her parents.
Today was a day full of things she didn’t want.
Dead bodies. Carlos all up in her business. His sister missing. Her parents at risk, going up against whatever crazy killer they were after now.
Alone in the break room, she could let the fear out of the box she kept it in. Like the gift she’d received, it had a tight lid on it most of the time. She knew how to control it—and all the ways she could stay safe living in a dangerous city, working with the remnants of a group her mom had spent so much time trying to take down.
But this wasn’t the lion’s den. It was the leftovers of a defunct organization that hadn’t been a threat for a long time. Now they were just a story. History told as a caution—like every story she’d heard growing up. Until the fear of what she couldn’t face swallowed her whole, she felt like she was drowning, and the nightmares started up all over again.
