Akira, you’re friends! Be grateful for that, and don’t let premature dreams of happily-ever-after steal your common sense.
She pointed to the storefront of the smoothie shop. “I’d love a mango smoothie.”
He got there first and held the door.
“The fact that you always hold open doors for me?” she asked.
“Yeah?”
She passed by him into the interior of the shop. “Also not romantic in the least.”
Blair had accused Luke of hyper-idealizing Ethan.
After gnawing on that for most of Saturday morning, he’d concluded that’s not what he’d done. Okay, he might have done a little of that. But, for the most part, he remembered all of Ethan’s strengths and all of Ethan’s weaknesses. Thing was, when you stacked those up, Ethan had been a pretty great kid. A prettyidealkid. Remembering him that way didn’t mean Luke was making him something he wasn’t.
The treasure hunt had stalled, which was giving him too much time to think.
Restlessness scratched at him from the inside. He needed todosomething productive to get the hunt going again, so he sat down at his laptop and continued doing the only thing he could—sifting through information online about the people Ed had known.
A sunset-orange sky filled his windows by the time he pushed his chair back. Nothing had tripped his suspicion. Nothing fit together in a way that provided a new lead.
He ran a hand through his hair, then texted Finley.
Luke
I’d like to take a look at all the clues in order.
Maybe seeing them that way would shake something free. That hope felt desperate, but he was desperate.
Finley
Sure! Come on over. The animals and I are enjoying a relaxing Saturday night in.
By the time he reached her place, she’d clothespinned everywritten clue, as well as items representing the unwritten clues, to a strand of white lights she’d hung across the only blank wall space in her living room.
Her hair was piled on top of her head. She wore bell-bottom jeans and a short, wide, fuzzy sweater. Slippers. Rings on every finger.
She considered the clues. “Does it help to see them all lined up like this?”
He jerked at her words, realizing he’d been staring at her instead of the wall. “It does.”Put her out of your mind, Luke.
It wasn’t possible to put her out of his mind. She was all he wanted, all he could think about.
Focus on the clues for her sake. He forced himself to study them, to remember the details of each one and try to picture them from Ed’s perspective.
Finally, he reached the two newest clues. On a blue sticky note, Finley had jotted down the things Robbie had told her about the day before Ed killed Carla. Next came Ed’s poem about Carla.
He freed the poem and walked a few steps so he could hold it next to a lamp. Slowly, he read it. Then turned it over to the side covered with a picture.
“What does this look like to you?” Luke asked.
“One of my dad’s drawings.”
“I’m a car guy. You want to know what this looks like to me?”
“Yes.”
“A map.”
