“You sly fox,” I say. “I didn’t even see you do it.”
She beams. “That’s the idea. Never get caught, right? Here, share your phone’s location with me, so I’ll know where to come looking if things go sideways with Mr. Millionaire.”
I do, but only select the “until end of day” function. Her name appears on a little map, next to Mr. X. The blue dot representing him is still fixed at the cancer center, ten miles away.
“When all of this is said and done,” Elodie says, “I’m treating us to lattes. Full-fat, with whip, extra syrup. We’ll have earned an overpriced drink.”
There it is, that glimpse of what my life could have been if only I’d taken a different path so many years ago. I’ve always dismissed the idea of truly enjoying these little things, but deep down I think I envy the people who can.
Elodie and I part ways, and I drive home first. I leave myphone in the garage, texting Elodie to say I have to take care of some things at home and won’t be able to get to work for a couple of hours. Then I head to the hospital, sans phone.
As I drive, I think about Elodie’s offer of friendship, and then I chide myself.You don’t know how to have friends, Margaux, remember?When Waylen pushes me to lead a normal life with him, when he tells me I need to make friends, and especially when he tells me I need to shield Collette from my work, it’s easier to disregard the thought.
But Elodie’s words reached me in an unexpected way. I never tried to open myself up to other people, and yet here I am forcing Collette to be social.
As I drive to the hospital, I imagine it. Elodie and me, conspiring over lattes as we read the latest headlines on our phones. Browsing obscure message boards to find cold cases, talking in whispers about how we’d get the criminals who walk free. Like scratching the ultimate itch. And then sitting on a bench, watching our daughters’ dance rehearsals.
Is it possible to form a true friendship? Not in the way my husband proposes—which would require me to ditch my little side hobby entirely. But with someone who gets it, and who’s willing to entertain the thought with me from time to time. You know, for fun.
When I make it to my brother’s hospital room, he’s asleep. But he jolts awake as though I’ve just burst through the door with a marching band procession. “Margaux,” he blurts. But he doesn’t mean me, the grown woman standing before him. He means the twelve-year-old who was separated from him when we were young.
He’s been dreaming about the night of the fire. I can tell. I have the same look on my face when I dream about it, too.
One look at his expression, and all thoughts of a friendship with Elodie dissipate from my mind. A real friendship is founded on honesty. It’s the same as a marriage in that way, isn’t it? And I can never be honest with Elodie about what really happened that night.
But I don’t say any of this to my brother. We’ve agreed never to speak of it, and we don’t. Whatever alternate life I might like to lead, this is the one I have. There are no friendships. No true, soul-deep connections over Starbucks lattes. Only the memories that haunt me, and the regrets I don’t think about.
“Hey.” I draw up a chair and sit by his bed. “You look good. I thought you were supposed to be sick.” What I’m really thinking is that he doesn’t look as bad as I thought he would, based on how he sounded over the phone. I won’t let myself think about him getting worse. One thing at a time.
He smiles, despite himself. “What day is it?”
“Wednesday. You up for a little recap?”
He nods, and I summarize everything I know about Bertram and about Erin, who was always a bit strange but may be worth a closer watch.
“A lot of my clients go deeper than we expected,” he agrees. “She may have a complicated life, but she only hired us to resolve one aspect of it.”
“Yes, but if she gets murdered by an ex-boyfriend or a violent neighbor, we can’t exactly give her the answers she’s looking for.”
He stares flatly at me. “You know better than anyone that people keep their secrets for a reason, M.”
“Her secrets weren’t of any use to me at first,” I say. “But now I wonder if there’s some connection. Something happened to her. She looked terrified when Elodie and I showed up unannounced. I could have sworn someone was in there with her.”
“You’re sure Bertram had an alibi?” he asks.
“Airtight.”
He nods. He pushes the button to recline his bed and slowly brings himself to a seated position. God, he looks so pale. I should have ignored his demands for privacy and checked in on him. Maybe if he’d gotten to a doctor sooner…
Don’t think about it, Margaux. Don’t go there. He’ll be fine.
“Okay,” he says. “I think Elodie is right that you should let her share the lead with you. See if this Skylar woman pans out. I’ll think on some questions you should ask her and get them to you today.”
“I don’t trust Elodie to—”
“I didn’t say anything about ‘trust,’ ” he interrupts. “I said ‘let.’ You always try to do everything yourself, and it’s worked out, but this one is big. There’s something that even I am missing. We started this to figure out how Bertram stole his sister’s app idea, but we may not find the evidence for that outright, so chasing down any other leads that might land him in prison is another thing to focus on.”
I tilt my head. “Do you realize we’ve been talking for the better part of an hour, and you haven’t worried at all about whether I’m staying safe? That’s usually your entire MO.”
