* * *
With the blood finally stopped, Theo bandaged his finger, washed the knife, threw away the sullied garlic clove, and returned to his recipe. He left the chops marinating in oil, garlic, and mint, put on a coat, and took himself outside, onto the back porch to smoke a cigarette. He noticed, as he put the filter to his lips, that he still had blood in his nail beds. He thought, suddenly, of the morning he’d seen that girl outside—Laura, the one they arrested. After he saw her, he’d gone back to an empty bed and fallen asleep. When he woke, Carla was in the shower, and when she emerged, he called her over to him. He reached out his hand, tried to pull her back down onto the bed, but she resisted. He kissed her fingertips, the nail beds scrubbed pink.
Back inside, he was just pouring himself a glass of red when the doorbell rang. Carla must have forgotten her key. He picked up the pile of mail on the mat by the front door, slung it onto the hall console, opened the door with a smile on his face and butterflies in his stomach, like the old days.
“Oh,” he said, disappointed. “It’s you.”
TWENTY-NINE
Some things were the same, some things were different. Laura sat, bent over, her head resting on top of her folded arms. Last time was late at night, this time was early morning, although really, who could tell? There was no natural light in the room; it could have been any time. It was a different room, but for all intents and purposes it might just as well have been the same. Last time it had been overly warm, this time it was bloody freezing, but there were the same bright lights, the same cheap furniture. A nasty gray carpet like the one in her hallway at home. （Don’t think of home. Don’t think of home, or you’ll cry.） Like last time, Egg was there, and Eyebrow too, sitting opposite her, expressions grave. Graver than last time, she thought. Whenever she caught Egg’s eye, he looked away, and that made her scared.
She was exhausted. It seemed like days had passed, even weeks, since she’d received the phone call at Irene’s yesterday afternoon. She’d gone to meet the police at her home as per their request. She’d been cautioned, standing outside in the car park with all the neighbors watching, and they’d escorted her up the seven flights to her floor. There were people already there, waiting on the walkway outside, dressed in those white protective suits like you see on TV.
“What’s going on?” Laura asked. “You’ve already done this, haven’t you? You searched here before—why do you have to do it again?” New evidence had come to light, someone said; they were going to have to search more thoroughly. There was a bit of waiting around, and then they brought her here, to the police station. It was late by that time. They put her in a cell and told her to get some rest. She hadn’t slept a wink.
“Laura?” Eyebrow placed a cup of water in front of her. “The duty solicitor’s just on his way now, all right? We’ll get started in a minute.”
“Yeah, all right,” Laura replied. “Cheers.”
That was the same—the polite, faux-friendly thing they did. They’d always done it; every run-in with the police she’d ever had, they did it. She’d imagined, though, that this time might be different, because this time was different. This wasn’t trespass, or disorderly conduct, it wasn’t public intoxication or petty theft. This was murder.
Murder! Laura felt a giggle rising up in her chest. She jerked upright, biting her lip, but fight though she might, she couldn’t keep it down; a chuckle rose out of her. Egg looked up from his notes, surprised. Laura laughed some more. It wasn’t funny, it wasn’t fucking funny. She laughed louder, longer, tears coming.
“Are you all right, Laura?” Egg asked her. She leaned forward, placing her forehead on the desk, chewing the inside of her cheek. Stop laughing stop laughing stop laughing stop fucking laughing.
The door opened and Laura stopped laughing. She looked up. A small, slender man with ginger hair and very pale skin held out a limp hand for her to shake. The duty solicitor, different from the one before. He gave her his name, which she immediately forgot, and a quick, nervous smile. Why was he nervous? That wasn’t a very good sign, was it?
Egg said something; he was introducing them all, for the record. Laura listened to everyone’s names and then forgot them （again）： Egg, Eyebrow, Nervous Guy. Laura Kilbride. They started asking questions, the same as last time. Where she had met Daniel, when, what time they’d gotten to the boat, what they’d done when they got there. All the same stuff they’d been over before, first in the flat and then at the police station.