“By qualified professionals,” he said, feeling deeply tired. “Not a college freshman.”
She still didn’t budge. She looked very small, perched precariously atop the curb, her hair windswept in the breeze. “I’m worried about his mom.”
“That’s because you’re a good person.” He pried his wallet from his back pocket. From the saddle-stitched folder he slid two crisp twenty-dollar bills. “For the fare.”
She eyeballed the cash like he was offering her a vial of poison. “I can’t accept that.”
“Don’t be impolite, Wednesday.” He held it under her nose. “Take it.”
“No, thank you.”
In the driver’s seat, the cabbie hadn’t grown impatient enough to yell, but hehadgrown impatient enough to hook his arm over the adjacent seat and glower back at them. “If you don’t use it for the ride,” Colton said, “then I’ll spend it on flowers. Do you like roses?”
“They’re not my favorite.”
“Fantastic. Forty should cover just about a dozen.”
She snatched the bills out of his hand. “You’re insufferable.”
“You’re welcome.” He held the door until she climbed inside. Once she’d buckled herself in, he shut it with all five of his fingers, soft and perfunctory. He watched the cab pull out of the idling zone. Watched it edge into the silvery line of MBTA buses, crossover SUVs, and transit cops. He thought about buying flowers anyway.
He didn’t move once she was out of sight. He remained right where he was. Alone on the curb. A rock in a fluid stream of travelers. He glanced down at his watch. He studied the ebb and flow of people. Postponing, until he caught sight of a familiar figure taking a seat on a nearby bench.
“Hayes.” Colton slipped a hand into his pocket. “Good to see you.”
Eric didn’t return the sentiment. “I have to say—you’ve done a lot of stupid things in the time we’ve been friends, but this has to be by far the stupidest.”
“Do you think so?”
“It wasn’t a compliment.” Eric sized him up across the chilly terminal. “Is your ego really so big that you thought you could bring Meyers-Petrov all the way to Chicago without getting caught?”
Colton thought of waking in the colorless shades of a silent dawn to find Lane sprawled across his chest. Her heart beat and beat into his skin. Every part of her felt perfectly, solidly alive, and for a moment he’d had trouble remembering what all of this was for.
“I didn’t bring her to Chicago,” he said. “She brought me.”
Hayes crooked his head, studying Colton sideways. “Either way, the two of you royally screwed things up. Police have started asking questions. It won’t be long before they’re poking around in the other cases, too.”
“Maybe they should.”
To his surprise, Hayes barked out a bitter laugh. “Yeah,” he said. “Maybe they should.”
Colton frowned down at him. “What’s with you?”
Eric shrugged. “Got a call from my sister last week. My grandmother’s been moved into hospice.”
“We’re almost there,” Colton said. “She just needs to last a while longer.”
“Yeah, man, I don’t think so.” Hayes leaned forward, elbows slung across his knees. “I went to see her over the weekend. Nurses say she’s been talking to my grandfather. They said older people do that sometimes, when they’re ready to go.”
“No one is ever ready to go.” The words cracked out of Colton before he could stop them. He thought of his chin cracking ice. The feel of water swallowing up his scream. The shadow of Liam breaking through the surface.
“Maybe.” Hayes palmed his jaw, looking conflicted. “Meeker’s in the truck,” he said. “Schiller, too.”
Colton picked his head up and frowned over at the Range Rover. It sidled along the curb, hazards blinking. “How is he?”
“He’s himself,” Hayes admitted. “I don’t know what you dealt with out in Chicago, but there’s nothing inside of that body but a twenty-year-old boy.”
Colton’s stomach soured. “That’s impossible. I saw him. He was gone.”
