“OK, right,” said Boris, more to himself than to Jack. “And it’s always been the seventeenth?”
“Yeah.”
“OK, so we aren’t going backwards or anything?”
“No.” Jack shook his head.
“How long have you known?”
“What do you mean?”
“How long have you been, like, aware of all this?”
“Oh,” said Jack. “Since I showed up. I noticed pretty much immediately.”
“Uh-huh,” said Boris. “You said nobody else knows?”
“Um,” Jack hesitated. Wasn’t sure if he should mention Carla. If she’d want Boris brought into the fold. If their newfound relationship would suffer because of it. A part of him, squashed down but still struggling, was a little too interested in Boris. A little too excited at the sight of him, at the sound of his voice. Hoped Boris felt that way about him, too. “Not exactly.”
“So other people know.”
“Only one that I’m aware of.”
“And who is that?” Boris’s stare threatened to penetrate Jack’s very flesh—certainly, it pierced his soul.
He looked away, toward the whisky bottle on the counter. “I, um…”
Boris grasped the bottle, dragged it from Jack’s reaching fingers. “Not until you tell me.”
“I just?—”
“Come on. I have a right to know.”
“Yeah, but this person hasn’t exactly agreed?—”
Boris’s glare sharpened. “What do you mean? You aren’t gonna tell me? Who are you protecting?”
“It’s just?—”
“It’s that fucking lady, isn’t it?”
Jack didn’t say anything, but the heat flooding his face was answer enough.
Boris crossed his arms, glared. “We dug up a body, and you don’t fucking trust me?” His eyes widened, lips parted, and he leaned forward, abruptly horrified. “The lady callingisn’tthe body, right?” When Jack hesitated, he implored, “Right?”
“Yeah, no,” said Jack. “Don’t worry. She isn’t… the same person.”
“Fine. So, who’s the body? Why were we digging up a body?”
“Because…” Jack bit his lip. “Because I thought maybe if I solved the crime, the time loop would end.”
“The time loop,” Boris repeated.
“That’s what I’m calling it.”
“Like in that one show?”
“What show?”
