The television had nothing useful to say.
Aurora looked at it anyway for a few seconds after the call ended — the low, shifting light of a program she hadn't been watching, the specific background noise of a room that would otherwise be too quiet. Then she set the burner phone on the side table and let herself think about what had just been completed.
She didn't smile. There was nothing to smile about.
Ray had gone behind her back. That was the part she kept returning to — not with surprise, exactly, because she had never made the mistake of believing Ray Carver operated on loyalty when impatience was available, but with the particular, cold clarity of someone who had just had a suspicion confirmed. She had sat across from him at his dining table and talked about Lee, about the board, about the slow and careful work of convincing the right people. Had given him a direction, a plan, a reason to be patient—and he had nodded and agreed and gone home and ordered a kidnapping.
