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Jamie keeps going. “He opened your drawers. He went through the nightstand and the dresser. I told him to stop.”
Heather looks at the blood on his mouth again. “And then?”
Jamie swallows. “Then the lunatic hit me.”
There’s something almost admirable about the compression.
Heather folds her arms. “Did you search with him?”
“No.” Jamie straightens a little. “I was trying to stop him. You told me to manage him.”
Heather’s gaze rests on him long enough that I know exactly what’s coming next unless I change the shape of the conversation.
“Jamie had your closet key.”
Jamie looks at me.
Heather keeps her eyes on him. “Did you open it?”
“No.” His answer comes immediately.
Heather turns toward the office.
Jamie gets to his feet behind her. He moves carefully, one hand brushing the wall when his balance shifts. I follow.
Heather takes down the key and unlocks the closet.
My coat is folded beside Jamie’s on the second shelf. For a moment, nothing else in the room exists. My bag is underneath it. The worn corner near the zipper and the small ink mark on one strap. Two sets of keys lie together in a shallow tray.
The phones are behind them. Mine is facedown.
I could cross the room in three steps.
Jamie had the key while I pulled on this door.
Heather moves my bag half an inch, checks beneath it, then lifts one phone and turns it over before putting it back in exactly the same place. She checks the keys next, then the shelf where Ben’s things are arranged.
She closes the closet and turns the key. “Jamie.”
He steps closer. Heather takes hold of the silver ring at the center of his choker and threads the key through it. The metal settles against his throat.
Jamie touches it once.
Heather turns his face toward me. “If Oliver wants anything from this closet, he asks you.”
Everything that still knows me as Nathaniel waits behind him. Jamie’s fingers close around the key at his throat.
Heather wipes the blood from his mouth. “You kept him out once. I know you’ll do it again.”
“Yes, Heather.”
“Good boy.”
His shoulders loosen, eyes soften beneath the smeared makeup, and he leans into her hand.
Heather strokes her thumb once across his cheek. Jamie closes his eyes for half a second.
I’ve never hated him more.
