Page 91 of Things We Hide from the Light
Piper sneezed whipped cream on the table. I took that as an affirmative sign, and as soon as I finished mopping up the mess, I fired off a text to him.
Me: Have time to grab lunch today? I have something I want to tell you.
I put the phone down and stared at the screen, willing three dots to appear. But none did.
He was probably busy. Or he’d already made up his mind that I was bad news and no amount of belated honesty would fixthat. What was I even doing? I was here to do my damn job and figure out a way to stop making risky decisions.
“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath.
I picked up the phone again.
Me: Just realized I don’t have time for lunch so forget I said anything about it. I have some errands to run so I’ll drop Piper off with Mrs. Tweedy.
There. Good.
It was the smart move to end it all now. It didn’t matter what Nash thought of me. I wouldn’t be here long enough to deal with the consequences.
“Hello, lovely.” Tallulah, Justice’s wife, appeared holding a large tumbler of coffee and a pastry bag. “Just wanted to tell you if that sexy car of yours needs an oil change, bring it my way. I love American muscle.”
“I wouldn’t trust anyone else,” I assured her.
She winked and left.
I froze with the mug halfway to my mouth.
Tallulah knew what kind of car I drove. I was part of a group text with fun, friendly women who seemed to be hell-bent on pulling me into their friend circle. The local café owner knew my name and how I liked my coffee. I had gym buddies, granted they were all members of AARP, but that wasn’t slowing them down on the dead lifts.
I glanced around me and recognized half a dozen faces.
I knew where to find all my favorite foods at the local grocery store and remembered to avoid Fourth Street between three and three thirty when school let out. I was in someone’s wedding. I was dog-sitting someone’s dog. I’d woken up two mornings in a row in bed with Nash.
Without me noticing it, Knockemout had sucked me into its gravitational field. And it was up to me to decide whether Iwanted to break free. Whether I was brave enough to see what those other layers were like.
“Well, hell,” I muttered and picked up my phone again.
Me: Me again. Lunch is back on the table. Literally and metaphorically. I mean, if you’re available. Hope to talk soon.
“Oh my God. Hope to talk soon?” I dropped the phone and swiped both hands over my face. “What is wrong with me? What is this guy doing to me?”
Piper let out a little whimper. I looked at her. “Thank you for your feedback. I’m going to drop you off at Mrs. Tweedy’s so I can go talk to someone horrible.”
“Well, look who’s back.”Tina Witt looked awfully smug for a woman in a khaki prison jumpsuit.
The first time I’d met the woman, her resemblance to her twin sister, Naomi, was uncanny. It felt like I was meeting a literal evil twin. Only instead of a diabolical goatee, Tina sported the entitled attitude of a not-so-mastermind criminal.
“Tina,” I said, sitting across from her on the metal folding chair.
I’d been here twice before and left both times with big, fat nothing. Either Tina was holding on to some strange loyalty toward Duncan Hugo or she really didn’t know anything about, well…anything. Seeing as how she’d rolled on her ex to the feds, I was guessing it was the latter.
“I told you and your fed buddies fifty million times, I don’t know where Dunc is.”
It was time to try a new tactic. “I don’t work for the feds,” I told her.
Her eyes narrowed. “You said—”
“I said I was an investigator.”
“What the hell are you investigating if it ain’t where that deadbeat, brain-dead moron went?”
