“But he didn’t,” Zeke said.
“He didn’t,” Sybil agreed.
“So then why was he following her?”
“The thing is,” Sybil said, “I am not even sure that hewas.Someonesentthis to him. It wasn’t on his camera roll.”
“So he had someone else follow her?”
“Simone thinks someone hit him intentionally. She also thinks he used us to befriend her, Betty.”
“Wait, what do you meant ‘hit him intentionally’? Like…the car accident?”
Sybil nodded. Zeke felt something flare in his gut, and he thought he might be sick. He didn’t want to break in front of her; he couldn’t freak out in front of her. She was already so much smarter, so muchwiser, so much more together. But he felt like he was a skein of yarn about to become totally unraveled.
“That’s—” he started, then stopped. He didn’t know what that was other than he wasn’t prepared to put his life at risk,their livesat risk to take this any further.
Sybil stood, more like heaved herself off the couch, and moved to the kitchen. He found her there staring at the evidence wall.
“Betty is in trouble,” she said when she heard him behind her. “And maybe Julian didn’t think she had done anything wrong. Maybe Julian was trying to help her steer clear of the danger she was running from.”
“Sybil,” Zeke started. “I think we’re out over our skis here.”
“Simone already told the police. About her suspicions. After the hit-and-run.”
“Right,” Zeke said. “So maybe we need to leave it to them.”
Sybil spun around, her face a mix of fury and disappointment. “We can’t ‘leave it to them,’ Zeke. They don’t know Betty, they don’t care about Betty!” Her tone was high and tight, and Pluto ran into the kitchen, like she needed an ally.
“Sybil, look, I know that you are aDatelineexpert—”
“Do not say it like that. Do not patronize me,” she interrupted.
“I just think that this is over our heads. Four dead in a doomsday cult? A missing young woman? A man—our friend—run over outside his apartment in Queens?” Zeke didn’t want her to think of him as a coward, but someone had to be reasonable here. “Shit, Syb, I mean, come on, let’s be honest. This is…not realistic.”
She pushed by him, and Pluto followed, as if neither of them could tolerate his presence. He trailed them like the runt of the litter.
“Syb,” he said to her back. “Please, I really don’t want to fight with you. I, I mean, I missed you. I hated not talking to you. I don’t want to…do this.”
He saw her shoulders rise then fall.
“Fight with me or find Betty?”
“Both. I don’t want to fight with you, and I don’t think we should find Betty.”
“You may not want to,” she said finally, still not turning to face him, “but I have to, Zeke.I have to.”
Zeke stared at the ceiling, willed himself to say the right thing. His physical therapist had just lectured him this morning on skipping two days while he was in Oklahoma. Forget that his PT took his own vacation. Forget that his body didn’t have the rest it needed to properly recover from his workouts in the first place. For Zeke, there could be no gasps, no gaps.
“Your life has to be tunnel vision,” his trainer had said as Zeke was easing his way into the Olympic-sized pool for a quarter-mile swim. “There can be no distractions, there can be no women, there can be no days off, there can be no nothing. Then, you might have a decent shot at being ready in the spring. Anything else, it’s a snowball dropped in hell.”
Sybil did turn now and held his gaze.
“I have to, Zeke,” she repeated. “And I’m going to find Betty, with or without you.”
He inhaled because he was being asked to choose: the rehab and his career or, well, Sybil.
“Okay,” he conceded. “I’m in.”
