“Got it in one.” I took another pull on my beer. “We had to go update Astrid today.”
“How is she holding up?” Sawyer asked.
I swallowed. The beer didn’t help with that particular burn. “Devastated. She finally got in touch with Priya’s parents in India. They’re flying back to the US as soon as they can.”
Ford’s eyes narrowed. “That’ll light a fire under Carson’s ass.”
I almost laughed. It wouldn’t have been humor. It would’ve been bitterness wearing a smile. “I’d like to think so, but I’m not holding my breath.”
Sawyer’s gaze held mine. “So now what?”
I tipped my head back against the couch for a second and stared at the ceiling like it could hold me up. “Now we try to find evidence of the pattern and hope it’ll give us some new leads to follow. Madden’s working on that.”
Ford’s eyes flicked, quick and not subtle. He didn’t say it, but I could hear it anyway: Madden. Her name still carried history for me like salt carried in the air.
During the update with Astrid, she’d gone still as stone, absorbing her friend’s grief, and I’d watched her do what she always did when she couldn’t fix something—go quiet, go sharp, go inward. So I’d stopped by the Second Wind before I came over here tonight, both because I’d wanted to let her know I’d be out for a bit and to check on her. She’d already been elbow deep in online research and had waved me away. Once I’d have taken that as depersonalization. Now I knew better. It was a coping mechanism.
Control what you can. Don’t drown.
And it was certainly safer than her going out there questioning anyone face to face.
Not that we’d had any leads on who to question in the past couple of days.
Finally, Ford observed, “You two seem to work pretty well together.”
I looked at him. He wasn’t accusing. He wasn’t teasing. He was just… noticing. Like Ford did.
“Kinda didn’t expect that,” Sawyer admitted. His gaze stayed on me, steady. “Not after… well.” He let the rest hang there without forcing me to pick it up.
I exhaled through my nose. “You mean after I hated her,” I said flatly.
Ford winced, but I kept going because it was true and because I was tired of pretending the past was less sharp than it had been.
“You seem to have put it behind you,” Sawyer said carefully.
I considered my words. “For all that this island tries to calcify people at their worst moments, we aren’t the mistakes we made in the past.”
Ford’s expression softened, like he was relieved to hear me say it out loud.
“When she made that apology,” I continued, “she wasn’t just blowing smoke. She’s done the work. Continues to do the work. That’s more than most people do.” I took another sip, letting the cold anchor me. “She really gives a damn. That goes a long way with me.”
Sawyer nodded once. That was a sentiment he understood.
“And,” I added, because truth was truth, “she’s hella smart. Beyond all the bookish valedictorian shit we remember from high school. I’ve certainly worked with worse partners over the years.”
I heard how that sounded the second it left my mouth—like I was placing her in a category I hadn’t expected to exist. Like I was saying partner and meaning more than colleague.
That was… something I wasn’t ready to unpack.
Ford and Sawyer both looked like they wanted to say something. Ford’s mouth even opened.
The doorbell saved me.
Ford headed for the door, and I shifted on the couch, relief and irritation tangling together. I hated how much I needed rescuing from my own mouth lately.
Ford came back carrying bags that smelled like heat and spice and edible comfort. He set them on the coffee table like an offering.
We did the routine—pulling food out, passing containers, the casual choreography of people who’d done this a hundred times. I took a bite of something that made my eyes water in the best way, and for a minute my brain actually quieted, focusing on spice instead of bloodless patterns, and I shifted the conversation yet again, aiming for more normal.
