The Day Silence Spoke novel Chapter 135

Zadok raised an eyebrow, a flicker of an idea in his eyes. He decided not to correct him.

He extended his hand. “Hello. May we come in and talk?”

“Of course, of course! Please, come in.” Preston, who had been on his way out, quickly changed his plans.

Latisha had no idea what Zadok was up to, but he seemed reliable, so she followed him inside.

Preston welcomed them with effusive hospitality, offering them water and fruit.

As Zadok entered, he surveyed the room. The sofa was cluttered with a worn, tattered blanket that seemed completely out of place in the luxurious apartment. He picked it up. Even without bringing it close, the distinct, musty smell of old age was unmistakable.

“Oh, Mr. Lambert, that’s dirty. Let me take it,” Preston said, snatching the blanket and hurrying to the bathroom, where he tossed it into a laundry basket.

Zadok continued his tour of the apartment, spotting a single bowl and a fork sitting on the liquor cabinet in the dining area. Someone was cooking in the kitchen, but the door was closed, hiding them from view.

When Preston returned, Zadok asked, “Is your wife cooking in the kitchen?”

Preston’s expression flickered. His wife was visiting her mother and hadn’t returned yet. The person cooking was, of course, his own mother.

He forced a laugh. “It’s my mother. You know how old people are; they love to keep busy around the house.”

Zadok nodded and returned to the sofa. “Let’s get down to business.”

Preston’s eyes lit up, and he rubbed his hands together eagerly. “Mrs. Lambert told you, didn’t she?”

“Yes, she told me everything,” Zadok said, his tone flat. “So you can drop the act. Let’s get to the point.”

“If we leave, will you mistreat your mother?”

Preston laughed incredulously. “That’s none of your business. If you’re not going to pay, don’t stand there pretending to be some kind of hero.”

As he spoke, Mrs. Dashiell emerged from the kitchen. She brought the spatula in her hand down hard on Preston’s head.

“You animal! You actually dare to ask for that much? You’d sell me for five million? You might as well just kill me now!”

Preston clutched his head and spun around, raising his hand to slap her. “You old hag, are you looking for a fight?!”

But Mrs. Dashiell didn’t flinch. She thrust her chin forward. “Go on, hit me! Let them see how you treat your own mother! You heartless beast! You want money? You’ll be broke for the rest of your life!”

Preston’s chest heaved with rage. If he weren’t afraid her old bones couldn’t take it, he would have struck her long ago.