Page 30

“What is it? Did something happen, my little dove?”

Had he said anything else, I might have reacted differently. But all these weeks of anxiety and doubt came pouring out of me. I was angrier with myself than with him. But once I started, I couldn’t stop.

“This!” I thrust out my wrist and pulled the red ribbon out from under my watch. Lock’s eyes widened as I slipped the ribbon off and laid it on the desk between us. “How many other women have you given this to?”

Lock jerked his head back as if I’d struck him. It tore a hole in my heart.

“Tell me.”

“Mina,” he said, coming to me. “Did someone hurt you?”

“I just need the truth. I need to know if there’s someone out there who might still be wearing your ribbon besides me.”

That smirk again. “Where’s this coming from?”

I couldn’t tell him about Corrine Egan’s statement. Or Amy Pasko’s. Or what had been found in Gretchen Small’s car. They were all part of an ongoing investigation. I couldn’t honor my ethical duties when it was convenient for me. But as I stood there, I knew it was much more than that. I didn’t want the truth if it was something I couldn’t bear.

“No,” he said, sensing me unraveling. “Mina, no. There’s no one else. How could you even think that?”

What could I say? I felt the earth shifting under my feet. When Lock was gone, I let my imagination take over. But when he was here, right in front of me, every doubt I ever had vanished. This was Lock. My Lock. The truth was in his eyes.

“This case… there are things I can’t tell you.”

“Of course,” he said. He took a relaxed posture, perching himself on the edge of the desk. He was no more than a foot away from me.

“There were things… similarities. Something one of the victims reported. I just needed to know.”

“You think I did something to one of your victims? Mina, what’s going on?”

I shook my head. I wanted the earth to open up and swallow me. I could hear how absurd I sounded.

“No,” I said. “I don’t know. This is harder than I thought it would be.”

“You think I’m hiding something from you? Mina, look, I don’t know what you think you heard or saw… but you haven’t been yourself for weeks. I thought it was about the pregnancy test. Another disappointment. Maybe I’ve been selfish. I never wanted you to feel pressured. I told you that from the beginning. But if you want to stop trying for a while. Baby, I’ll do whatever you want.”

“It’s not the fertility stuff,” I said. Was it? Did he have a point?

“Baby,” he said. “I’ve been a fool. I’m so sorry. I forgot about next week.”

“What?”

“May seventh,” he said. “You have an anniversary coming up and I’m a jerk for not remembering.”

May 7th. The day my parents died. I hadn’t remembered that either. It also meant another anniversary was coming up. Lock’s brother died on May 10th. Twenty-five years ago, as Eli told me.

“Whatever you need, I don’t care, okay? It’s natural that you’d be out of sorts. I should have realized. I should have been more sensitive. Look, whatever it is. Whatever you think I did…”

“Lock… I don’t…”

“Here,” he said. He grabbed a pad of paper off the desk and a pen from one of its holders. He furiously wrote, filling up the entire page. Then he handed it to me.

“You’re welcome to everything, okay? Whatever you need to satisfy your curiosity. My credit cards, banking passwords, social media profiles. You already know the combination to all the safes. Look through whatever you want.”

He took the pad back and wrote one more thing. “There,” he said. “That’s the passcode to my phone. Mina, take it all.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, my throat feeling thick. “I’m saying everything wrong. I’m not accusing you of anything.”

I couldn’t think straight. He had me spinning. Maybe he was right. What happened to my parents was always there, just under the surface. It always came back strongest this time of year in fleeting images and sensations. The campus police officer’s stern face. The radio on his shoulder that beeped until he clicked it off. The curious faces of my suitemates as they hurriedly shut their door while the officer delivered the news. The air in our eighty-year-old farmhouse turned deadly. I’d been home that weekend. Just two nights before. The officer’s phrases fragmented in my mind. Never woke up. Peaceful. Nothing anyone could have done. Then I was so desperately alone until I found Lock. He stood in front of me now. Solid. Real. Worried about me.