Without saying another word, he leaned forward, closing the distance between us. I felt drawn to him, the magnetic pull between us undeniable. But before our lips could meet, I pulled back, a sudden surge of doubt flooding my thoughts.
“Did I do something wrong?” he asked, his face twisted in confusion.
“No. You’ve done everything right. It’s just… This has all been so fast, so unexpected. I’m not sure if I’m ready. Plus, we work together. Not to mention, you’re only here for a short time and I don’t want to get used to something that’s not permanent.”My voice was a little more vulnerable than I had intended. Andrew pulled back and took a breath. It was a small move, but it seemed to create a chasm between us. His eyes, a moment ago filled with warmth and understanding, were now guarded and distant.
“I understand,” he said quietly. “Is there any chance we could forget about what just happened? I really enjoy your company, and I don’t want that ruined by my impulsiveness.”
I thought about it. His earnestness was touching, his words sincere. I had felt a connection with Andrew, one that was rare, something I hadn't experienced in a long time. But it was this very connection that scared me. “Of course. I enjoy being around you, too. And don’t worry, you didn’t ruin anything.”
After Andrew drove away, I went to my room and stared at my reflection in the window, wondering if I should have kissed him. His words played over and over in my mind, and I could see a hint of something different in my eyes. Hope, maybe? Or was it denial? Was I fooling myself into believing I could have a second chance at love?
I sat on the edge of my bed, tracing the floral pattern on my bedspread. Memories flitted through my mind, a cascade of moments that had led me to this point. I remembered the anguish, the heartbreak, but also the resilience and strength I had discovered within myself. Since arriving in Kitty Hawk, I had been piecing myself back together, learning to carry the weight of my past with grace —not as a burden, but as a testament to my survival. And now, maybe it was time to allow myself a little vulnerability again. To risk. To hope. I had been living so long in the specter of what had been, I had almost forgotten the promise of what could be.
26
In the days that followed,Andrew and I did our best to maintain a semblance of normalcy. We went about our daily routines, exchanging pleasantries and sharing friendly meals. There was an unspoken agreement to ignore the elephant in the room. Andrew never brought up the incident from that night, nor did I. But there was something different, something more profound in our interactions. The air seemed charged whenever we were in the same room, as if there was an invisible thread tying us together, taunting us with a connection we were too afraid to acknowledge.
As promised, Andrew arranged for Judy and me to see Rosie at the jail. On the drive over, Judy was unusually quiet. She sat rigidly against the seat, her hands clenched tightly in her lap as she watched the world go by. I could see the tension etched in the lines of her face, in the set of her mouth.
“Do you still want to do this?” I asked as I turned the car onto the island.
She didn’t respond at first, staring blankly at the building and trees that passed our field of vision. “Yes,” she finally said, her voice steady despite the tension tightening every muscle in her body. “I need to know that she’s all right.”
The jail was a run-down building with peeling paint and rusted old bars. Rosie was sitting on the cold, hard bed when we walked in. Her face lit up slightly as she saw us, a warm smile cutting through the fear in her eyes. Her hair, once lustrous and vibrant, was now dull and tangled, and there was a pallor to her skin that suggested weeks of confinement. But it was the bruised innocence in her eyes that struck me the most.
“How are you holding up?” I asked as I took a seat on the cold stool. “Are they treating you all right?”
She shrugged, her smile feeble. “As well as can be expected,” she said, her voice softer than I remembered. “I’m trying to stay hopeful. It’s not easy, but I’m trying.”
My heart ached for her.
“I can only imagine,” said Judy. “It’s a mess out there.” She gestured vaguely toward the small window. “The town is split right down the middle.”
Rosie nodded, her fingers grazing over the cold bars of her cell. “I can hear them sometimes… At night when it’s quiet, I can hear them shouting and arguing. It feels like the town is tearing itself apart because of me.”
There was an unbearable sadness in her voice that made me want to reach out and comfort her. But I was hesitant, uncertain of what my touch would mean in this place where every action had a consequence.
“It's not your fault, Rosie,” said Judy. “Whoever did this to Peter is responsible.”
The mention of his name brought tears to Rosie’s eyes, reflecting a sorrow that words could hardly express. “Peter.” Her fingers curled tighter around the bars, knuckles white from the pressure. “I’m not even sure how to feel about him anymore, given everything I’ve learned.”
“I know,” I said. “This isn’t fair to you. It’s not fair to anyone.” I wanted to keep things friendly, but there was a question I’dbeen dying to ask Rosie ever since I agreed to help Andrew. “Rosie, they say Peter was cheating on you. Is that true? And if so, did you know about it?”
Her hand slid from the bars, and she looked at me. “Yes, but I didn't do it, Sara. I would never hurt Peter.”
I searched her eyes for even an ounce of deceit but found none. “I know. This other woman Peter was seeing… Do you know who she was?”
Rosie hesitated, her gaze dropping to her lap as she traced the faded lines on her chipped nail polish. “I… I have my suspicions,” she said finally. “But I've no proof. And honestly, if I tell you and I'm wrong…”
Judy placed her hand gently on Rosie’s. “You don’t have to say anything more if you’re not ready.”
I shot Judy a look of impatience, but she returned it with one of understanding and care. I knew how hard this was for her, seeing her friend in such a vulnerable state. But I had a job to do, and no matter how difficult, I had to push forward.
“Judy’s right, Rosie,” I said. “But we’re here to help. If you have any idea who this woman might be, it could be the key to proving your innocence.”
Rosie looked back at me, her eyes reflecting her internal struggle. It was the rawest version of her I had ever seen. “There’s a woman at Peter’s office,” she began, her voice shaky. “Her name is Linda. A couple of months ago, they worked on a project together. Not long after, he started coming home late. He said it was because of the workload, but there were nights he didn’t come home at all. At first, I thought nothing of it. But then…Peter started changing. He became distant, preoccupied. Whenever I asked him about his work, he’d brush me off. He started wearing cologne, something he never cared for before. It was the little things, Sara, the little changes that tipped me off.”
A shiver ran down my spine as I listened to Rosie describe the subtle shifts in Peter's behavior. “And this Linda… Can you tell me more about her… what she looked like, what kind of car she drives?”
