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Lock smiled as he leaned back on his elbows, watching me as I peeled off my sticky shirt and walked into the bathroom. I turned on the shower jets and quickly brushed my teeth. A moment later, Lock joined me in the bathroom.

“If I knew what you were dreaming about, I would have woken you. Promise,” he said.

The steam came quickly. I grabbed a hand towel and wiped off the mirror. Lock stood behind me in a pair of boxer shorts. He’d already showered. He would have woken by at least five to get his workout in. I could never manage it that early. But by five thirty every single morning, Lock would be in the fitness room down the hall, sticking to his punishing weight-lifting or stair-stepper regimen. In the time I’d known him, he’d never missed a day.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

I turned to him. “I’m fine. Really.”

His face darkened. “Mina, you haven’t had a nightmare like that in months. And you only have them when something stresses you out. The only new thing going on right now is this task force you’re on. Did something happen yesterday?”

Lock missed nothing. It seemed so strange to me at times that a little over two years ago, I didn’t know this man. Now, we were both so in tune with each other’s moods. Our facial expressions. Tones of voices. Those little “tells” we both had that showed what we were thinking. For Lock, he’d start to pull at his hair, dragging a hand through it like a rake. Or he’d stare off in the distance, not hearing so much as a freight train if it were right beside his head. Or he would go out to the garden like he did the other night, curling into himself.

I wasn’t like that. Since I was twenty years old, I thought I had pulled off stoicism. Hid my inner thoughts. And I did, with everyone but Lock. Only he knew the truth of my own very worst day. That morning, when I was nineteen years old and so far away from home for the first time. I had just come back to my dorm room from my nine o’clock sociology exam. Campus police were outside my door.

I kissed him. I became aware of my nudity as he pressed against me. I wanted him, as I always did. But I found myself unable to answer his very simple question. Did something happen yesterday?

“Just give me a few minutes,” I said. “I just need to clear my head. I’ll be down soon. Did you eat without me?”

He kissed my forehead. “I saved you some eggs. I had beignets delivered.”

I smiled. “I’ll get powdered sugar all over me.” He gave me a sinful smirk. But he respected my boundaries and left me to shower alone.

When I came downstairs, Lock sat at the breakfast nook reading a newspaper. He was a throwback in that way, having it delivered every morning. He liked to read it with his morning coffee, which we drank by the pot.

He folded the paper and poured me a cup. Despite my protests about the sugar, I devoured one of the beignets. The bakery on the boardwalk made them to rival New Orleans’ Cafe Du Monde.

“So,” he said, once I finished my pastry. “I won’t push you. But I’m here if you want to talk about it.”

“The task force? There isn’t much I can talk about. You knew that was going to be the deal.”

“You don’t have to tell me any details. But you can tell me if they got to you. Just like every other case you’ve ever tried.”

“I know. And really, there isn’t much to tell on this yet, even if I could. We’re just starting to look at our first case. Cases.”

Lock smiled. “Are the boys being nice to you?”

This got the laugh out of me Lock intended. “Nobody’s bullied me on the playground yet,” I said. “They’re decent guys, I think. They seem to respect Roy, and Roy respects me. I’m not worried.”

“They’re lucky to have you,” he said. He had a bit of powdered sugar on his chin. I reached for him, brushing it away with my thumb. I ran my fingers along his strong jaw. The image of Amy Pasko’s police sketch swam in front of me. Just as quickly, I shook it away.

I was just stressed about the task force. The stakes were high. Three missing women. We couldn’t get this wrong. I knew full well that if we couldn’t find out what happened to them, there would be no justice. Roy Dennison’s choice to put me in front of this thing could be a blessing or a curse. Sure, I could take partial credit for its success, but I could be a convenient scapegoat if we failed, since this was the most public piece of work I’d ever had my name attached to.

“You won’t lose,” Lock said. “And it’s not on you to solve any of those cases. You’re not a cop. It’s not your job.”

“How’d you get to be so smart?” I teased.

His serious expression didn’t waver. He knew that I was trying to deflect with humor. But he didn’t press me further.

“What about you?” I asked. “Have you made your final decision about the scholarships?”

Lock took a last swig of coffee. “Pretty much. But I’m hoping to expand the recipients this year. I’ve got five equally fantastic candidates.”

This got a real smile out of me. The Manning Foundation had started off awarding one full-ride scholarship each year. Lock steadily increased the number of recipients.

“Are you going to show me the list?”

“Are you sure you have time for that?”