“It’s fine.” She looks up from her hands, bringing her eyes back to mine. I’m relieved when all I see inside of them is resolution. A closed door on the false image that was Gideon Keenan,father. A weighted burden lifted from her shoulders once and for all, or at least for now.
“So, as long as I remain an outlier, I should be fine, right?” she questions.
“I hope so. I don’t know. This new frequency could come with new problems. I want to believe that as long as no one’s forcing a pair of headphones on you, then you’ll remain uninfluenced. Your free will should remain yours.” I would kill anyone who tried to take it from her, anyway, but that’s beside the point.
She takes a deep breath and lets it out. “Okay. So, business as usual, then? I’ll keep doing my job, and …” She pauses. “I almostforgot. Shit. My father. Gideon’s case is being reopened. Alex and I are the only journalists who have that information right now, though. I haven’t even seen anything in the news about it.”
Reopened?! What the actual fuck. This is certainly news to me, and notgoodnews.
“Are—are you for certain?” I question.
“I saw the file. So, I’d say, yes, I’m for certain.” She assesses me. “Are you okay?”
I cough, clearing my throat that’s suddenly entirely too dry. “Yeah. Yes. I am fine.” I need to steer this away from myself.
“Maybe it was David,” I spit out. Framing him could work, now that I say it out loud.
“David?” She considers it. “Yeah, I mean, he would have motive.”
“For sure. It could have been anyone at Sonus, realistically, if he was trying to get in on the Eden Frequency,” I say, deepening the lie.
“Even you,” she says.What? No. Ugh.
“No, Sloane. I already told you the reason I had those photos.”
“I know, I’m joking,” she says, a half smile on her lips. I’m not so sure that she is joking, though.
“Well, I’m sorry for barging in here and interrogating you like this.” She stands and averts her gaze before bringing it back to mine.
“Oh, and you should know.” She pauses. “I’m … seeing someone.” She bites on her bottom lip, and although I find myself mildly jealous ofme, I can’t help the huge smile that forms beneath the mask.
“Ah. It’s fine. You deserve to be happy. And I”—I point to the mask with both pointer fingers—“can’t exactly give anyone that right now. You know, with the anonymity and all that.” I now avert my gaze, feeling stupid for trying to make myself feel betterthat she’s turningmedown. I have truly managed to get myself involved in the world’s strangest love triangle.
“Yeah.” She nods. “I gotta go. You take care of yourself, Van.” She walks toward the door and opens it, stepping out. I grab it and hold it open for her.
“You too, Sloane. I mean it. You deserve nothing short of greatness.” The greatness thatIintend to give her. She turns, staring at me for a few seconds before turning and walking to her car. I close the door and lean my head against it, exhaling like I’ve been holding my breath this entire time. I grab my mask, pull it off, and throw it across the room. What am I going to do about the reopened case?
? ? ?
I spent the next couple of hours blowing off steam in my home gym. Now that Sloane is on the David suspect train, maybe no one will suspectme. I wonder what new evidence they could have that led to the case reopening. I was careful, or so I thought. I’malwayscareful.
I scour through my memory trying to recall every single detail of that night. Nothing comes to mind that would make me question myself. My phone rings, forcing me back to the present. I look down to see “Cal” before hitting accept.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“You told me you gave Sloane my name, not my fucking number. What the fuck, man?” He’s pissed. I’m confused for a split second before my brain catches up. Sloane, my sneaky little investigative matchmaker.
“Well, like you said, Sloaneisan investigative journalist. She probably found your number herself.” I laugh. “I’m guessing Lydia texted you?”
“Yes, she fucking did. And it’s a weird, long, wordy message. Not only do Inotwant to reply, but I wouldn’t even knowhowto reply to it.” I can practically see the smoke fumes coming out of his ears.
“Well, what did it say?” I ask, genuinely curious now.
“I don’t know. Some shit about her nickname and a Golden Retriever, and then she called megood sir,” he grumbles. I full-on laugh.
“I’m sorry.” I pause, still laughing. “Good sir? And, what? Adog?”
“Yes. Shut the fuck up, Riven. This isn’t funny. What am I supposed to do about this?” he asks seriously. Someone has to pull the stick from this guy’s asshole. I think Lydia might be the perfect person.
