“One problem.” She frowns.
I already know what she’s going to say so I say it for her. “His name.”
“His name,” she parrots. “You said he talked about a fur coat. That’s a distinct detail.”
“I can scroll until I find him. I’d know his voice.”
“Good.” She twists her bottom lip. “We need to act normal.”
“For how long?”
“A week, maybe two. As long as we need. Months. Let things settle. See if anyone reports her missing. Keep our heads down.” Alex squeezes my hand. “And we document everything. Quietly. Carefully. Brick by brick.”
A whole week of pretending at work. Of seeing Dom and acting normal.
“I’m sorry,” I say suddenly. “I shouldn’t have told you. Now you know. Now you’re?—”
“Stop.” Alex cuts me off. “You think I’d want you to carry this alone? You think I’d want you to protect me from the truth?”
“But if Dom finds out you know?—”
“Then we both better make sure he doesn’t find out.” She cups my face. “Dandelions grow through cracks in the pavement, remember? They wouldn’t give up. Then neither should we.”
I nod, wiping my eyes. “I can’t just sit here.”
“Get dressed,” Alex says, standing up. “We aren’t going to just sit here.”
“What?”
“We’re going to that alley by Dahlia’s. The stoop where he lit a cigarette, where she asked him for one.” She’s already pulling up Google Maps. “We find it during daylight. Look for anything Dom’s cleanup crew might have missed.”
“You think we’ll find something?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” She shrugs. “But we have to try. And checking the alley now is safer than going straight to the club asking questions.”
“Right now?” I double-check.
She glances at the clock, then back to me. “Yes. Right now. We take separate Ubers. Leave our phones here—just in case Dom can track them.”
She’s already thinking like an investigator.
“Alright. Get dressed.”
I don’t move from my spot, my mind won’t shut the hell up. Processing. Planning. Worrying about every way this could go wrong.
Alex marches back in the room and grabs my ankles then yanks.
“Alex—what the fuck?—”
I slide off the bed, land on my ass on the floor with a thump.
“Ow.”
“You were spiraling.” She looks down at me, hands on her hips. “Now you’re on the floor. Can’t spiral on the floor.”
“That’s not how that works.”
“It’s working right now.”
