“Three years.”
“And how long have you been in love with her?”
He grins. “Maybe that long.”
I nod. “I see. But you’ve never told her how you feel? And she’s never noticed?”
His grin vanishes. “You know the answer to that.”
Right. Maybe I should go with a different topic.
I let my gaze wander around the room. What should I talk to him about? Video games? Japanese animation? Action figures?
Then my eyes rest on the black lamp sitting on the bedside table, particularly on the red ornament hanging on it. My eyebrows furrow because it looks the same as the one I have.
“You have a cornicello?” I ask Taylor.
He glances over his shoulder. “Oh, that? Yes.” He grins. “Wow. You’re actually the first person I’ve met who knows the thing. Not that I’ve had a lot of people over.”
I lift my hand. “May I?”
Taylor nods and hands it to me. I examine it closely on my palm, then take out the one I have in my pocket.
They really do look the same.
“Whoa! You have one, too!” Taylor exclaims in surprise. Then he sighs. “I guess you would, though. Allie gave you one, too, didn’t she?”
I give him a puzzled look. “Allie?”
“She gave me that. I found it in her room when she was turning it upside down looking for something and she said I could have it. She said she didn’t even know what it was or how she got it. I figured she’d had it a long time, and I was just glad to have something from her. Pathetic, right?”
I don’t answer. I’m still amazed at how similar, almost identical the two are. I can almost tell they were made by the same person.
Then I remember what Orso said.
She made two, actually, but I lost the first one.
Did Allie find it? How? That’s another mystery.
The trap waiting at the Bowles house. The identical cornicellos. Oh, and there was also that picture of Orso in the attic. The mysteries just keep piling up.
Taylor finishes with the bandaging. I hand him back his cornicello, put mine back in my pocket, and move my arm experimentally. My side still hurts, but not as badly. I feel like I can move better now.
“Thanks,” I tell Taylor.
He doesn’t answer. In fact, it seems like he didn’t hear me. He’s suddenly grown still. His forehead is creased, his gaze distant.
“What?” I ask him as I put my shirt back on.
He slams the lid of the medical kit shut.
“I think I know who tried to kill you,” Taylor says.
He goes to the table where his computer is. I follow him with a puzzled expression.
“What do you mean?”
“The information I gave Allie, that one about the violinist who went mad?”
I nod. “Josephine Waller.”
“Someone actually sent me that.”
What?
He sits in front of his computer and starts clicking and typing. After a few seconds, he points to his screen. It shows the same picture of a woman that was on the file Allie had, but in a message.
“I’ve been trying to get information about Sergio Bianchi on the dark net. Someone must have noticed and sent this picture in an anonymous message to one of my sites. Naturally, I looked her up and connected the dots, compiled the information and gave it to Allie. I thought someone was trying to help me, but what if someone was trying to use me to lure you and Allie into a trap?” He slaps his forehead. “Fuck.”
Fuck indeed. Someone has been playing us.
“Is there somewhere else you can stay?” I ask him.
The Ghost could very well have sent the message, and if he knows Taylor is working with Allie and me, then Taylor is in danger.
We all are.
Taylor nods. “Yeah. I can…”
Suddenly, his phone rings. He answers it.
“Yes? …No. Why? …What? …Okay.”
That’s the extent of the conversation from Taylor’s end before he hangs up. The expression of alarm on his face concerns me.
“What is it?” I ask him.
“Allie is missing,” Taylor tells me.
My eyes grow wide. What?
~
Taylor and I rush to Allie’s hotel room. When we get there, Grae is waiting.
He gets off the chair with a glare and pushes me against the wall. His hands go around my neck.
“Where’s Allie?” he sneers.
I put my hand on his arm. “Calm down, Grae. That’s what we’re all trying to find out.”
His lips curl to show teeth and his nostrils flare, but he takes his hand off my neck and steps back.
“Who’s this?” Grae glances at Taylor.
“Allie’s friend,” I answer.
He nods. “When was the last time you saw Allie?”
“Yesterday morning,” I answer.
“The night before that,” Taylor says.
“Then I’m the one who saw her last,” Grae says. “I saw her yesterday afternoon.”
He did?
“How was she?” I ask.
“Upset at first because of the adoption, you know.”
“Adoption?” Taylor asks in a puzzled tone.
“Allie’s adopted,” I fill him in.
His eyes grow wide.
“I managed to cheer her up, though,” Grae goes on. “When she left, she was smiling. She seemed to be in a rush, though. I thought she was in a hurry to see you.”