I can’t help but smile. “Well.” I release a breath. “Exes tend to do that,” I admit. “But Ireallydon’t want to talk to him right now.”
“Ah,” Ben says, with a knowing nod. “Been there.”
“Yeah…”
“Well.” He grabs his empty basket and gives me a salute as he makes his way for the exit. “See you tonight. What’s your room number?”
“Right. Vital information.” I smile. “We’re 211.”
“Cool. Well, see you later, then. And, hey, I hope Nobody lets you finish folding your laundry in peace.” Ben gives me a broad smile and disappears down the hall. I bite my lip, surprised by the giddiness I’m left with as I grab my basket and make my way upstairs, grinning to myself like an idiot.
Chapter Four
Maya
May 2023
Ketamine.
I press a shaking finger to the page and look up at Detective Simmons. “This one, here. Ketamine? Isn’t that an anesthetic? My sister could have been prescribed the others…but not this.”
Simmons’s lips form a thin line. “Perhaps your sister didn’t share what drugs she was using with you…Ketamine has been popular with young people lately.” Her tone is dismissive. The disbelieving sister, unwilling to accept the truth.
“Excuse me?” How would she know what my sister would or wouldn’t tell me?
“Did your sister ever show signs of recreational drug use? Excessive drinking?”
“No.” My face warms. Am I being irrationally defensive? Sure, my sister liked to go out, butketamine? No. Never. It wasn’t her style.
“It could explain—”
“She was in college, she liked to have fun, but she wasn’t stupid. She wouldn’t have tried a drug like that.”
“Ma’am.” She takes a breath, clearly used to this type of reaction. “We’re trying to rule out all possibilities. We’ve seen an uptick in drug-related fatalities lately. Especially among young women who fit your sister’s profile. Were there any signs of isolating behavior?”
I feel myself stiffen at her use of the wordprofile.“No.”
“I need you to be honest with me. Did your sister—”
“Stop. Please, stop.” I clench my jaw. “My sister…was not a drugaddict, she wasn’t living a ‘high-risk’ lifestyle.” I squeeze my eyes shut and take a breath.
I think of Naomi, so full of life, always dancing and laughing with her friends. She wanted to see the world, help people, do something important with her life; she had so much left to do. The anger seeps out of me, replaced by a deep, empty, aching loss. I want to go home.
I don’t realize I’m crying until Simmons offers me a tissue.
“I’m sorry.” Simmons looks me over with a sympathetic frown. “I know this must be extremely difficult. I think I have what I need for tonight. We can talk again another time, when you’ve had a chance to let things sink in.” She closes the folder and slides it back toward her.
“No, wait. Do you have any other theories about what happened?”
Simmons goes still. There’s something she’s not saying. She inhales sharply and when she speaks again she proceeds slowly, carefully. “When dealing with an overdose, we have to consider the possibility…that it may have been intentional.”
—
Nate drives usto the hotel in silence. I stare out the window, eyes swollen, thinking of everything I could have done differently. If only I’d been easier on her. If only I’d called more often these last few months, insisted she tell me what was going on. If only I’d been there for her.
“Almost there,” Nate says, a concerned hand reaching over to squeeze mine. Beneath it, I dig my nails into the seat, concentrating on the tiny scar on the base of his knuckle. “You doing okay?” Nate asks, and I cut my gaze to him.
Do I look okay?I want to ask.Naomi is gone. I’ll never be okay again.
