Chapter 12 The Silence Between Us
Sloane
The sun was too bright when I woke up. It spilled across the guest room floor, highlighting every speck of dust in a house that was too clean to feel lived in. I hadn't slept well. My mind was a mess of the contract, the investigation and moving in with Cade.
I dressed in a charcoal blazer and slacks. I spent an extra ten minutes on my hair and makeup, making sure I looked like the hotel consultant I was supposed to be, rather than the girl who had cried over a shoebox of memories.
I found Cade in the kitchen, already on his second cup of coffee. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt, but he hadn't put on his tie yet. He was staring at his tablet, his thumb scrolling rapidly through lines of data.
"Morning," I said, reaching for a glass. My voice sounded thin in the high-ceilinged room.
"Morning," he said back. He didn't look up. His voice was short and sharp. It was much different than it had been the night before.
I poured some water, watching him from the corner of my eye. Yesterday, I saw a glimpse of the old Cade. He was the guy who remembered what apples I liked. Today, that man was gone. He looked distant. His jaw was tight, and he looked tired. He didn't even make eye contact with me when I walked in.
"Did you sleep?" I asked. I didn't really care, but the silence was annoying. I needed to know why he was acting so weird. Maybe he was just tired from thinking about the investigation. I knew talking about Lily was hard for him.
"Enough." He finally looked at me, but his eyes were cold. He looked at me like I was a stranger or a problem he had to fix. He took a sip of his coffee and went back to his screen. He was ignoring me.
I set my glass down on the counter. I wasn't going to let him freeze me out. "I thought we were starting the investigation together this morning. We’re doing this for ninety days. I don't want to waste time."
“Yeah, you’re right” He seemed totally preoccupied, like his mind was miles away. I figured he was just grieving.
"I want to look at my Uncle Richard’s schedules. He ran the hotels when Lily died. If something bad was happening at our hotels, he’s the one who would have left a trail, even if he didn't mean to."
Cade stopped moving his thumb. He looked at the tablet for a long second. He didn't argue, but he didn't seem excited either. "Okay then," he said quietly. "You can bring your laptop to the office."
We spent the next few hours in his home office. It was a big room with no windows. It was filled with dark wood and old books. We sat at opposite ends of a long table. The only sound was the clicking of keys and the hum of the air conditioner.
Cade was very quiet. He didn't say a word for two hours. He just stared at his screen. Every time I looked at him, he looked like he was fighting a war in his head. I felt bad for him. I knew searching for a killer was a heavy burden. I wanted to help him carry it.
I went back to the lists. I was looking at events held at the Hartford Grand in March of 2023. It was a busy month. There were weddings and big meetings.
I stopped when I saw a specific date.
"Oh, wait," I said. I looked at the screen and then back at Cade. "I was actually at this event."
Cade went totally still. He didn't move a muscle. Then, he looked up. His attention sharpened suddenly. "Which event?"
"The Spring Fundraiser," I said. I pulled up my own digital calendar from that year to check. "Wait, that was two years ago. March 2023. I remember this one."
Cade leaned forward. He didn't take his eyes off me. "Tell me about it."
"It was a Hartford charity gala," I said. I tried to remember the night. "It was a beautiful event. There were hundreds of guests. My Aunt Claire spent months planning the flowers and the music. I remember there was a massive ice sculpture in the lobby and the ballroom was filled with lilies. It was one of the biggest nights of the year."
I looked at my calendar again. "March 14th. That was the date."
Cade went very still. He didn't blink. He just stared at me. His face was white, and his hands were clenched into fists on the table.
"What?" I asked. I felt a chill run down my spine. "Did something happen at that gala? Was there a robbery or something?"
Cade’s voice was very tight. It sounded like he was choking on the words. "That was the night Lily died, Sloane."
The air left my lungs. I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. "What?"
"Lily died on March 14th," he said.
I felt sick. My hands started to shake. "I... I was there. I was in the same building."
The horror of it hit me all at once. While I was wearing a fancy dress and drinking expensive juice, Lily was being murdered. While I was complaining to Melissa about how boring the speeches were, Cade’s sister was dying somewhere else. I had been laughing and taking photos while a tragedy was happening right under my nose.
"Cade, I'm so sorry," I whispered. I felt a wave of guilt so strong I thought I might cry. "I had no idea. I didn't see anything. I left early, actually. I think I left around nine because I had a headache. If I'd known... if I had seen her..."
I trailed off. What could I have done? I was just a girl at a party. But the thought that I was so close to her while she needed help made my heart ache.
Cade didn't say anything. His expression was unreadable. He just sat there, looking at me. I thought I saw pain in his eyes. I thought he was remembering that night and how much it cost him. For a second, I wondered if he was angry at me. I dismissed it. I assumed his silence was just deep grief. How could anyone speak after hearing something like that?
"I can't believe I didn't know," I said. I felt so small. "The family kept it so quiet. They just said there was an accident later that week. I never put the dates together."
Cade still didn't speak. The silence in the room was heavy. He stood up abruptly. The chair made a loud scraping noise against the floor.
"I need to check something in Lily's files," he said. His voice was thick and strange, as he just grabbed a folder and walked toward the door.
I stood there alone in the big, dark office. I thought he was just overwhelmed by the memory of that night. I figured that mentioning the gala had been too much for him to handle. It made sense. If my sister had died at a party my family threw, I wouldn't want to talk about it either.
But as I sat back down in the quiet room, a small feeling of dread started to grow in my stomach. The way he had pulled away... it felt like more than just sadness.
I looked at my laptop screen. March 14th. The night of the gala. The night I was there.
I stayed in the office for a long time, waiting for him to come back. But the house stayed silent and today, the silence felt dangerous.