The Dark Glamour Read Free Page B

handle. She finally settled for folding it awkwardly in her arms. It was an inconvenient way to walk, but it was only temporary, she reminded herself: everything was about to get a whole lot easier.
    “But, Miss Chase!” McDeary nearly whimpered in sudden concern.
    Busted! her brain shouted, and Jane stopped breathing. But McDeary wasn’t chasing her, setting off the bank’s alarm system, or even looking at her at all: his entire focus was on the dark interior of box 41811. Not busted. Yet.
    “Did you not want the personal item?” McDeary frowned uncertainly, straightening back up and turning a small blue box between his smooth palms. He hesitated and then cleared his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing vulnerably. “Mr. Chase didn’t leave instructions about this, specifically, but he clearly assigned you full ownership of the safe . . .”
    Jane turned, softening. Knowing that Malcolm had left her something personal, meaningful, suddenly meant much more to her than all of the stacks of cash she could carry. She fought the urge to rip the box out of his hands, and instead reached for it as politely as she could bear. “Yes,” she answered firmly. “I’ll be taking that as well.”
    The manager’s hazel eyes, made small and watery-looking by the lenses in front of them, followed the box as Jane took it. “That was the item that brought Mr. Chase to us to begin with. He said we had excellent references among his friends, and I do hope he has been happy with our services.” His thin chest puffed out with pride. “He has been a client for nearly fifteen years, of course, so I like to think that we have met his needs.”
    “Of course,” Jane assured him automatically. “He told me so.” McDeary smiled deferentially, but Jane’s mind was racing. Nearly fifteen years, and it started with this. She lifted the box’s catch with numb fingers. This box wasn’t for her. Whatever it was, it had predated her in Malcolm’s life by more than a decade. She felt a blush mounting on her cheeks and wondered if there was a graceful way to back out of taking it now.
    Just then the catch released, and the lid fell open so easily that Jane, startled, nearly dropped the whole thing. The inside of the box was lined with soft blue velvet, and tucked securely inside was a glass unicorn. It was pretty, with finely pulled legs and an elegantly arched neck, and little touches of gold on the hooves and horn. But “pretty” was the only word to describe the unicorn: there was nothing about it that gave any impression whatsoever of magic, or even of substantial monetary value. It looked, Jane decided, like the sort of thing you could buy in any mall in America. Why this? she wondered, touching a tiny hoof experimentally with one chipped fingernail. She half-expected a magical frisson but got nothing. As far as she could tell, the “personal item” Malcolm had been storing all this time was nothing more than a piece of glass.
    It’s not for me. It’s none of my business what it is, she reproached herself sternly. She closed the box with a snap. “Thank you,” she began, unsure what to say next. “I had no idea what was in here, and now I don’t think I should be taking it” doesn’t really have a great ring to it.
    “Of course; I’m thrilled to be able to help Mr. Chase and his family. And I’m sure that item is sentimental for you as well, since he told me it belonged to—” McDeary stopped midsentence, his small eyes narrowing to slits. “Excuse me. You did say that you are Mr. Chase’s younger sister, yes?”
    I didn’t say younger, Jane’s mind hissed. Not that it was a huge leap: Malcolm was eight years older than her, and anyone as ingratiating as McDeary had to know that it was always good policy to assume women were young. But his eyes were riveted on her in a new and unpleasant way, and Jane’s skin crawled a little. The still, dead air of the safe room prickled at her skin with a new sort of static