Behind the Veil

by Kathryn Nolan

  Because I was a rule breaker too. I’d done it once, with Mark—I’d broken the rules as surely as Victoria and Bernard.

  “I made a series of unforgivable mistakes in the month leading up to Bernard going missing. I doubted my instincts. Didn’t believe what I saw. And instead of going to the police, I thought confronting Bernard would make him…” He chuckled derisively. “I thought I could get him to confess to me and change his ways. That’s how naive I was, Delilah. Where does that place me? Good? Evil?”

  “You feel guilty about that?” I asked, because I didn’t really know the answer to his question. He leaned away from me, removing his hand from my leg. I almost snatched it back.

  “Constantly,” he confessed.

  “Bernard is a criminal mastermind. You just got in his way. He was going to end up underground whether you confronted him or not.”

  “Or he could have been arrested that night if I’d made a different choice.” His jaw tightened, a deep line etched between his brows. “But I genuinely believed I was doing the right thing.”

  Tentatively, I reached for his hand. Brushed his skin in what I hoped was a soothing gesture.

  “I understand why you did what you did,” I said and meant it. “I believe you.”

  The echoed statement hung between us in the perfumed air. We stared down at our joined hands—I caressed his palm, entwining our fingers together.

  If Victoria saw us now, what would she see—tenderness…affection…trust?

  “We have to stop meeting like this.”

  As if I’d called her into being, Victoria Whitney appeared by our side.

  Henry and I didn’t even have to feign surprise—I’d been so wrapped up in the moment I’d forgotten myself again.

  “It’s the woman of the hour,” Henry exclaimed. He stood and she let him take her hand, kiss her ring like she was the fucking Queen of England. I kept my expression bashful.

  “Congratulations,” I said. “What an extraordinary accomplishment.”

  “Thank you, Delilah.” She pursed her lips together. “What are you doing here?”

  “Francisco invited us,” I said hurriedly. I waved to where he was still standing, chatting with a group of donors. To his credit, he waved back with a smile of feigned delight. “Henry and Francisco know each other through the same professional circles.”

  “Must be fate,” she said. “I can’t seem to shake the two of you.”

  For a terrifying second, I thought we’d blown our cover. I half-expected Sven to come charging through the crowd. But instead she tilted her head, weighing last night’s awkward social faux pas.

  “We’ve been supporters of the Bristol Foundation for years,” Henry said. “When Francisco told us you were being honored tonight, we called our accountant to arrange a gift in your name.”

  Victoria arched her brow. “Is that so?”

  Henry leaned down to whisper in her ear. The lines of his suit jacket clung to his broad shoulders.

  She cast her eyes to mine, impressed. “That’s quite a sum, dear.”

  We hadn’t rehearsed this but Henry winked at me. It was fabricated affection that evoked a real blush.

  Victoria noticed.

  “When you control your family’s foundation, you can give as much as you’d like, whenever you’d like,” I offered. “We’ve enjoyed spending time with you recently and we believe in the work that you’re doing. We wanted to show you that.”

  “It’s a lovely gift,” she conceded. “And I am doing amazing work. I swear, this city is more obsessed with the hats that I wear than the fact that I’m the single most generous person in it.”

  “A travesty,” Henry said, shaking his head. “We do hope to still see you at the Gala next week?”

  “Of course,” she said. “I expect to see you in a tuxedo.”

  “I think that can be arranged.”

  I hid my giant sigh of relief by looking up into the sky, inadvertently pulling Victoria’s attention along with me. “It’s a pity we can’t see any constellations here,” she said.

  “Back home, I could see the Milky Way every night,” I said. Henry stilled behind me.

  “I thought you grew up in the city, dear?” Victoria asked. Shit. Had we discussed where we were from? Or was Victoria making an assumption?

  “Delilah’s not a city kid like me,” Henry replied, linking our pinkie fingers together. He squeezed once before letting go.

  “I’ve lived here for a long, long time,” I explained. “But I grew up way out in western Pennsylvania. Coal country. Nothing but trees and skies so dark you can’t see your hand in front of your face.”

  “It must be stunning.”

  “It is,” I said, feeling a pang of homesickness slide through me. My dads had let me stay with them for the months after I’d been fired; let me do nothing but hike through the woods and wonder if I’d ever trust my instincts again. They hadn’t judged me for what happened—but it seemed to make them worry more. Which was why I hadn’t said a word to them about Victoria or her armed guards.

  And I definitely hadn’t told them about Henry.

  “You must be busy with the Copernicus exhibit,” I ventured.

  That secret smile appeared on her face again. “Not in the ways that you would imagine. Quite the fuss is being made over it though. It’s exhausting.” She lifted one shoulder elegantly. “I do so enjoy the heavens. Imagine, a man like Copernicus, positing a theory thought to be strange and blasphemous. When in actuality, he understood what others did not.”

  “Why the stars?” Henry asked. “Did your mother love them as well?”

  “You remembered,” she smiled. “She did love stargazing when we were children. Thought it was important for us to have a sense of awe about this world. Something my father didn’t care a lick about.”

  Victoria peered up through the twinkle lights, searching a pale darkness where barely any stars were visible. “I cannot buy them.”

  “What?” he asked. He glanced over at me.

  “The stars.” She waved her arms at the sky. “The vast, infinite universe cannot be purchased by Victoria Whitney. And so I’ll always desire it. Isn’t that how it goes? We always want what we can’t have.”

  I craned my neck, mind scrabbling to come up with our next conversational entry-point. She was going to lose interest, but I had no conceivable ideas on how to ask her if she had stolen the Copernicus without actually asking her.

  “Ms. Whitney, I hope you don’t mind my interruption. But there’s a supporter who’d love to meet you.” I heard Victoria and Henry turn, and an oddly familiar voice greet her.

  “Commissioner Davis, ma’am. It’s a pleasure. The police department wanted to be here to show our support for the funding you’ve given through the Foundation. Makes our job a lot easier, I’ll tell you that.”

  I hadn’t heard that smarmy fucking voice in more than two years. In fact, I’d done everything in my power to forget it. From the sound of it, he’d jumped four ranks in that time.

  I wondered how many other people he’d used to get there.

  In the mediation I’d been forced to sit through before the department had fired me, the only thing he’d claimed was that every single aspect of our romantic relationship was a fabric of my overactive imagination.

  “I don’t want to make this about age or gender,” he said, avoiding my murderous gaze, “but this isn’t the first time a young female detective has latched herself to a superior officer. It does happen.”

  Anger blazed so fast and so hot I forgot for a full minute that Victoria Whitney believed I was a philanthropist with a massive trust fund who’d never shot a gun in her life.

  “Delilah?” Henry asked. “Are you okay?” His body was shielding me from view while Victoria talked. We needed to get out of here before Mark recognized me and destroyed all of our progress with Victoria.

  “We need to—” I started to say.

  “Is that Delilah I see?”

  The co
nversation around us quieted. I gave Henry a pleading look that I trusted he understood: get us out of here.

  We turned and I faced the man I’d never wanted to see again. He seemed older, as if his multiple promotions had aged him rapidly.

  “Hello,” I said. My mind raced through a thousand lies and possibilities.

  Victoria was watching me quizzically.

  And Mark’s answering smile was as smug as the day he fired me.

  19

  Henry

  “Is that Delilah I see?” The older white man had been introduced as Mark Davis, the Police Commissioner. But he was staring at Delilah like a meal he very much wanted to eat.

  But I blinked and his expression disappeared.

  I instinctively slid my arm around Delilah’s waist and pulled her into my side.

  She was trembling.

  And whoever the hell he was, he’d just blown her cover.

  “Delilah, do you and the Police Commissioner know each other?” Victoria asked. She was staring between the two of them like they were puzzle pieces that didn’t fit together. “What a small world.”

  “Ancient history,” she said weakly. “And I’m Delilah Thornhill now.” She put a special emphasis on Thornhill.

  Her words triggered a memory—the two of us talking in my office late at night. I once trusted a man I shouldn’t have. But it’s ancient history now. Was this man the reason Delilah had been fired?

  “We used to work together,” Mark said to Victoria. “Although I don’t know who you are?”

  He reached his hand out as if to shake mine.

  “Henry Thornhill,” I said firmly, ignoring the gesture. “Delilah’s husband.”

  Mark’s lips thinned as he dropped his hand. He glared down at Delilah’s left hand. “I see.”

  “Weren’t we all talking about me a moment ago?” Victoria cut in.

  The Commissioner took the hint.

  “As I was saying,” he said, dragging his eyes away from Delilah, “we wanted to thank you for your good work and service. You’ve done so much for the city of Philadelphia.”

  “Yes, thank you for acknowledging that,” Victoria said primly. “I’m quite sure you have as well, Commissioner Davis. I so admire the police department.”

  “It’s a great job,” Mark agreed. “Serving the community. Doing what’s right. Don’t you agree, Delilah?”

  I smoothed my palm up the curve of her spine and desperately searched for a way out of this situation. Victoria could not know that Delilah was a former police officer.

  “Sure,” she said curtly but didn’t elaborate.

  “You know I read about you in the paper the other day,” Victoria said. “An article about the new rules and regulations you’ve been implementing in the city department. Sounds like you stepped into quite a mess when you were first appointed.”

  “Corruption,” he said, raising his wine glass as if giving a toast. “Corruption is everywhere, Ms. Whitney. Before I was appointed, we had officers abusing taxpayer dollars for personal expenses. Romantic relationships between superior officers and subordinates.” He shook his head. “It was a mess I was all too happy to clean up.”

  Delilah’s trembling intensified.

  “It is startling the lengths that people will go these days to break the law,” Victoria said. “There are so few people these days you can truly trust.”

  My head snapped up at that—half of me was concerned my partner was about to faint. The other half was wrenched back to the night I’d confronted Bernard. The calm, even way he’d spoken to Louisa over the phone: It’s horrible when we discover how few people in this world we can truly trust.

  Victoria Whitney was shaking her head along with Mark, as if devastated at the thought. I was struck at the similarities between her and my former boss: their serene confidence, a certainty that the rules did not apply to them.

  “Henry,” Delilah whispered. I plunged back into the present, where Delilah was looking at me with wide blue eyes. I shrugged out of my jacket and placed it over her shoulders, rubbing her arms up and down.

  “You look freezing,” I said, cupping her face. “Are you alright?” My thumb moved across her cheek. Whether the gesture was real or fake, I couldn’t be sure. But seeing Delilah Barrett weak-kneed was evoking a sweep of unfamiliar feelings. I wanted to wrap her in my arms and take her someplace safe, far away from here.

  “When did the two of you work together again?” Victoria said. She was staring at Delilah. Mark was staring at Delilah.

  But Delilah was looking up at me.

  And fainted right to the ground.

  20

  Henry

  Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. There was a gasp from Victoria. Delilah’s head lolled to the side. Her knees buckled and she pitched backward to the ground.

  I might have said her name. She might have said mine. The only thing that was real was my driving motivation to catch my partner before she fell. And I did—one hand beneath her shoulder blades, one at the back of her head—a mere inch before she hit the floor.

  “Delilah, oh my God,” I whispered.

  Someone was bringing us a glass of water. Victoria was demanding people get back, give her space. I laid her down gently, with as much care as humanly possible. I brushed the hair from her forehead—then she fluttered her eyes open. I was kneeling next to her, our faces a foot apart. She moved her lips but I couldn’t hear.

  “Tell me you’re okay. Do you need a doctor?”

  “Faking,” she whispered—so quiet at first I didn’t entirely catch it. Her mouth hovered at my ear—and the heightened tension of the moment couldn’t prevent my body’s reaction to her pretty mouth on my skin. “I’m faking. You need to get us out of here.”

  I brought her palm to my lips. Kissed it as I let out a very real sigh of relief. “She’s okay,” I called to Victoria. Mark was nowhere to be seen. “She has low blood sugar sometimes. She just needs a moment.”

  “Of course, my dear,” Victoria said, hand to her chest. She strode over with a glass of ice water as I helped Delilah gingerly sit up.

  Delilah winced, took the glass. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m feeling embarrassed.”

  “Don’t be,” Victoria admonished. “You think I haven’t fainted from exhaustion before? As women, we push ourselves too hard. All of the time.” She laid a hand on Delilah’s shoulder almost tenderly. “People think having a trust fund isn’t stressful. But you and I both know how hard it can be.”

  My fake wife deserved an Oscar nomination for her ability to keep her face neutral.

  “You’re right,” she murmured.

  “You need your rest. And for your handsome husband to take care of you.”

  Delilah nodded. I took her hand, helped her stand up. “I’ll be well by the gala, I promise.”

  Victoria squeezed us both—looking at us proudly. “Oh, I can’t wait. Now take your beautiful wife home, Henry. I have to get back to being the center of attention.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said, extraordinarily grateful when she finally left us to mingle back into the audience. Under the pretense of comforting my wife, I pulled Delilah into my chest, my lips on her temple.

  “You’re brilliant.”

  “I know,” she whispered.

  “We’ll leave and try to avoid Mark. I haven’t seen him. I think he’s —”

  “Do you need medical help Officer Barrett?”

  Commissioner Davis had sidled back, expression filled with an abundance of fake sympathy.

  “We were leaving,” Delilah said, subtly looking through the crowd. We were both aware of Victoria potentially watching us.

  “I have to say, I’m utterly shocked to see you. What’s it been, two years? And you’re married to boot.” He shot his eyes up toward mine. I was at least six inches taller than him. Delilah walked on unsteady legs to his side. My brow furrowed, concerned. Her fingertips flew to her forehead, as if she was light-headed.

  “Deli
lah?” I took a step toward her.

  “I’m only going to say this once,” she said to Mark, tone dripping with a quiet fury. “If you ever talk to me again, I will kick you in the dick so hard you won’t be able to stand upright for weeks.” Absent Victoria’s presence, Delilah dropped the act—straightened her spine, the muscles in her arms rippling with restraint. “If you ever talk to my husband again, I’ll lodge this stiletto heel into your goddamn face.”

  He didn’t say a word as she brushed a strand of her hair back down. With immaculate grace, she walked back to my side and took my hand. “Shall we, darling?”

  “I didn’t say this conversation was over,” Mark snapped, but there was a desperation that hadn’t been there a moment ago. His arm shot out like a snake toward her. Before I could form a rational thought, I caught his wrist. Stepped between Delilah and the Commissioner.

  “My wife was clear,” I said. “You and I both know what she’s capable of. I suggest you heed her warning.”

  Mark wrenched his wrist away, shaking out his fingers like a sullen toddler. He didn’t say another word, just fixed his tie with a sniff and left.

  We watched him for a minute. I tracked Victoria’s movements through the audience—she was laughing gaily with Bitzi Peterson and posing for pictures with her award. I doubted she’d noticed our altercation.

  “Let’s go get your coat,” I said, exhaling through the flare of anger, the surge of possession. I led her toward the coat room. It was one story down on the top floor inside the building. We wove our way through the crowd, a few people flashing concerned looks at Delilah. I opened the door, got her inside. The coat-room attendant was missing so I walked into the tiny space, searching the hangers.

  Delilah stood next to me, arms crossed, teeth snagging her bottom lip.

  “Who was that man?” I asked her softly. “Your old boss when you were a police detective?”