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“You’d lie to them.”

“I’m telling you what will happen.”

Juney looks at my face for a long time. “Would you really do that to me?”

“I’m doing it now.”

Juney picks up the last flyer from the porch and holds it toward me. “My number is on there.”

“I know your number.”

“Then call me when you’re ready to tell me the truth.”

I take the flyer. My photograph looks like a man Juney could still recover if she works hard enough.

Juney’s eyes shine, but she doesn’t allow anything to fall. “You still have a home with me,” she says. “Whatever they told you, whatever you think you owe them, you can leave.”

“I know.”

She waits for something else. I give her nothing.

Juney turns and walks down the steps. She gathers the flyers from the path, shoving them into the canvas bag on the passenger seat before getting into her car. She doesn’t start it immediately.

I close the door. The first deadbolt turns beneath the key. The second slides into place more easily. I lock the third while Juney remains visible through the narrow pane.

Her car finally pulls away from the curb.

I return to the living room and place the keys in Heather’s palm. She closes her fingers around them. I fold Juney’s flyer twice.

Heather holds out her other hand. I place it there. She slips the flyer into her pocket with the deadbolt keys.

“Green room,” she says.

I put my arm around her waist again. There’s no one outside the window to see it now.

“Not tonight,” I say. “I’m sleeping with you.”

Heather studies me. Her hand closes over the back of my neck, and she draws me down until my face is near hers. “You are,” she says.

CHAPTER 47

Oliver

Heather takes me to her room. She doesn’t tell Jamie or Simon where we are going. Neither asks.

Her bedroom door is open. I crossed this threshold once looking for my phone, my wallet and anything I could use against her. She closes the door but doesn’t lock it.

Jamie’s miniature lies beneath the edge of her blanket with his black hair spread across her pillow.

Heather releases my neck. “Clothes off.”

I take off my glasses and place them on the nightstand beside the mushroom lamp. Heather picks them up immediately and puts them back on my face.

“I want you to see me,” she says. “You may remove them when I decide you’ve finished looking.”

I open the first button of my shirt. “I want to recite something.”

Heather sits on the edge of the bed. “Begin.”