Everyone was silent, this new revelation settling over the room like a heavy morning fog.
“Where were you when you saw him?”
“In my room. I couldn’t sleep, and I have this bench, right below my window, where I like to read … I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner,” I said. “I … I didn’t know…”
“Of course you didn’t, sweetheart,” Sheriff Dooley said. “Of course you didn’t. You’ve done more than enough.”
* * *
A roll of thunder shudders through my house now, making the wineglasses hanging upside down from our liquor cabinet rattle like chattering teeth. Another summer storm is rolling through. I can feel the electric charge in the air, taste the impending rain.
“Chlo, did you hear me?”
I glance up from my wineglass, half full of cabernet. The memory of Sheriff Dooley’s office starts melting away slowly; instead, I see Daniel, standing at our kitchen counter, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a butcher knife in one hand. He got back from his conference earlier this afternoon; when I arrived home from the office, I found him dancing to Louis Armstrong through the kitchen in my gingham apron, the ingredients for tonight’s dinner spread across the island. The image makes me smile.
“Sorry, no,” I say. “What was that?”
“I said you’ve done more than enough.”
I squeeze my glass a little more tightly, the delicate stem threatening to snap from the pressure between my fingers. I rack my brain, trying to remember what we were just talking about. I’ve been so lost in thought these last few days, so consumed in memories. Especially with Daniel being gone and the house being empty, it’s almost felt as if I’ve been living in the past again. When the words escape Daniel’s lips, I can’t tell if they actually came from him or if I imagined them, conjured them up from the recesses of my mind and placed them into his mouth to regurgitate back to me. I open my lips to speak, but he cuts me off.
“Those cops had no right to show up at your office like that,” he continues, his eyes focused on the cutting board beneath him. He chops some carrots, moving the blade in quick, fluid motions before scraping them to the side of the board and moving on to the tomatoes. “Thank God you didn’t have any clients in there yet. That could have really hurt your reputation, you know?”
“Oh, yeah,” I say. I remember now. We had been talking about Lacey Deckler, about Detective Thomas and Officer Doyle questioning me at work. It felt like something I should tell him, in case her last known location ever became public knowledge. “Well, I was the last person to see her alive, I guess.”
“She might still be alive,” he says. “They haven’t found her body yet. It’s been a week now.”
“That’s true.”
“And the other girl … she was missing for, what, three days before they found her?”
“Yeah,” I say, swirling the wine in my glass. “Yeah, three days. So it sounds like you’ve been following all of this, then?”
“Yeah, you know. It’s been on the news. Kind of hard to avoid.”
“Even in New Orleans?”
Daniel keeps chopping, the tomato juice running across the cutting board and pooling onto the counter. Another roll of thunder vibrates the house. He doesn’t reply.
“Does it sound like it could have been the same person to you?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light. “Do you think they’re, you know … related?”
Daniel shrugs.
“I don’t know,” he says, wiping the tomato juice off the blade with his finger before popping it into his mouth. “Too early to tell, I think. So what kinds of questions did those guys ask you?”
“Not much, really. They were trying to get me to tell them what we talked about in our session. Obviously, I wouldn’t, which kind of bothered them.”
“Good for you.”
“They asked if I saw her leaving the building.”
Daniel glances at me, his brows furrowed.
“Did you?”
“No,” I say. “I saw her leave my office, but I didn’t see her leave the building. I mean, I assume she did. There really isn’t anywhere else to go. Unless she was grabbed from inside, but…”
I stop, look down at the ruby-red liquid coloring the sides of my glass.
“That seems kind of unlikely.”
He nods and looks back down at the cutting board before scooping up the chopped vegetables and placing them in a searing pan. The scent of garlic fills the room.