Chapter 5 - Blue Gloves
Renick entered only after Belle stepped back.
Even then, he did not cross the room like he owned it. He stood beside the door, hands visible, eyes on Micah, letting the basement apartment decide whether he belonged.
He didn’t.
But the danger had already gotten in.
Belle set the knife on the counter without taking her hand fully off it.
“Tell him what you told me,” she said softly.
Micah looked at the floor.
“I saw blue gloves.”
Renick’s voice was careful. “Like medical gloves?”
Micah shook his head. “Pretty gloves. Shiny. Dark blue. Like the lady wore at the big dinner.”
“What lady?”
Micah closed his eyes, trying to remember.
Belle knelt beside him. “It’s okay. Slow.”
“The one with the silver hair.”
Renick’s expression changed.
Not much. Only a flicker.
But Belle saw it.
“Vivienne,” he said.
The name carried weight.
Belle knew it too. Everyone on staff did.
Vivienne Kavanaugh.
Renick’s aunt.
The woman who hosted charity lunches with diamond pins on her collar and had once sent a cook home without pay because the soup was “emotionally dull.” She dressed like old Boston money and spoke like God owed her rent.
Belle had cleaned the marble bathroom after one of her luncheons. There had been a smear of lipstick on the mirror and a hundred-dollar bill folded under an empty perfume box with a note: For whoever knows how to disappear.
Belle had left the money there.
Poor did not mean stupid.
“Your aunt?” Belle asked.
Renick’s eyes hardened. “My father’s sister.”
Micah whispered, “She told Brinley the bird wanted to show her something.”
Belle’s hand flew to her mouth.
Renick went completely still.
“She said that?” he asked.
Micah nodded. “Brinley didn’t want to go. She said Daddy said no balcony. The lady said, ‘Daddy doesn’t have to know.’ Then she opened the door.”
Belle felt sick.
“Why didn’t you say that before?”
Micah’s eyes filled. “Because grown-ups get mad when kids tell on people.”
The sentence broke something in her.
Belle wrapped both arms around him.
Renick looked away.
For several seconds, no one spoke.
Then Renick took out his phone and pressed one button.
“Sully,” he said when the call connected. “Find Vivienne.”
A pause.
“No. Not tomorrow. Now.”
Another pause.
Renick’s voice dropped into something colder than anger.
“Because if she touched my daughter, blood won’t be enough to pay for it.”
Belle lifted her head sharply.
Micah went stiff in her arms.
Renick ended the call and seemed to realize what he had said in front of a child.
His face tightened.
“I apologize.”
Belle stared at him. “Don’t bring that language into my home.”
He nodded once. “You’re right.”
The apology shocked her more than the threat.
Micah looked between them, confused by adults who could be dangerous and sorry at the same time.
Belle stood. “You have what you came for. Go.”
Renick looked at Micah. “Did Brinley say anything else?”
“Enough,” Belle snapped.
Renick’s eyes cut to her.
The room shrank.
Belle felt the full force of him then. The man who made judges take private calls. The man whose name changed police reports. The man whose silence could ruin a life faster than another man’s shouting.
But Belle had spent seven years protecting Micah from landlords, hospitals, creditors, and men who thought a woman alone was a door left unlocked.
Fear had never stopped her.
It had only taught her where to stand.
“He is done answering questions,” she said. “He saved your child. He is not evidence.”
Renick looked at her for a long moment.
Then he lowered his eyes.
“You’re right.”
Again.
Belle did not know what to do with that.
A sharp buzz came from his phone. He read the screen.
The change in him was immediate.
“What?” Belle asked before she could stop herself.
Renick slid the phone back into his coat.
“Vivienne left the estate forty minutes after the incident.”
“So find her.”
“She went to the harbor.”
Belle frowned. “Why?”
“Because she owns a house there.”
He reached for the door.
Then stopped.
“Mrs. Ashford, Maribel Sosa was last seen near the harbor at 5:20.”
Belle’s stomach dropped.
Renick’s voice quieted.
“If my aunt had help, Maribel may have seen it.”
“And if she did?”
His silence answered.
Belle looked toward the bedroom, toward Micah’s small bed made from a secondhand frame and thrift-store blankets.
“Take us somewhere safe,” Micah said.
Belle turned.
He was pale but steady.
“No,” Belle said immediately.
“Mom.”
“No.”
Micah’s voice shook. “The blue-glove lady saw me.”
Belle froze.
Renick looked at the boy.
Micah whispered, “When I grabbed Brinley, she was still at the end of the hallway.”
May you like
Belle’s blood turned to ice.
“She saw my face.”
