Lies(72)

“That’s right.”

“Okay. That makes sense.” I nod. “Ah, thanks. Thank you.”

“One or the other is fine. You don’t need to say both.”

I smile, nervous again for some reason. “Yeah, I just … never mind.”

“Whenever you’re ready,” he says, sliding out of the booth. Which means he wants to go now. I don’t know why people don’t just say what they mean.

I finish off the margarita, then wipe the salt off my lips. When I catch Ed watching, he turns away with a sharp sort of motion. Odd. For a big man, his movements have been mostly fluid, almost graceful. Guess he really wants to get rid of me. Can’t say I blame him.


*

“Hey, how was your day?” Frances flops down onto the other end of the couch with a bottle of water in her hand. “You got a phone?”

“Yeah. I was careful when I went out,” I say, heading off the next inevitable question before it can be asked.

“Good.”

My sister would probably be happiest if I’d hide at home for the rest of my life, staying safe and sound. Bubble-wrapping me isn’t out of the question. But it’s never going to happen. I need my freedom, the space to figure out my life for myself.

She picks up the TV remote and starts flicking through the channels. Some drama about people on a spaceship, the evening news, a woman singing about a dude named Heathcliff, and a tennis match. Finally, she settles on a wildlife documentary.

“Poor gazelle,” she mumbles, taking a sip of water. “What did you want to do for dinner?”

“Pizza.”

“Again?” she asks with a smile.

I’m working my way through the local pizza place’s menu, figuring out my favorite. It’s taken a week, but I’ve got it narrowed down to either the pumpkin, spinach, and feta, or the tomato, basil, and mozzarella. For some reason, the vegetarian options appeal to me more. Sometimes I get a bit fixated on things. Happily, pizza has been one of those things.

“I met Ed today,” I say.

Her whole body tenses. “You did?”

“Why didn’t you tell me about him?”

“Because he broke your heart.” She sets down the water bottle, turning sideways to face me. “Clem, you were a mess, absolutely miserable, crying all the time. It was almost worse than right after Mom died. With everything that’s happened, the last thing you need is him back in your life. The one silver lining of this whole disaster has been that you’ve been able to stop tearing yourself up about it.”

“He says he didn’t cheat on me.”

She sighs. “I honestly have no idea about that. In the month leading up to the attack, you refused to talk about him or what went down between you two. So basically, I was just following your wishes.”

“Hmm.”

“You were crazy about the man. Can’t imagine you’d have left him without a damn good reason.”

Was Ed the type to cheat? Thing is, he didn’t appear to be lying, and watching people is kind of my thing these days. The things they try to hide. The things they’re not saying. What comes out of people’s mouths versus what they do is often way off. With Ed though, I hadn’t gotten that feeling. In fact, I’m not even sure he cares enough about what I think of him these days to lie. Not like the man would have too much trouble finding someone to take previous me’s place, if that’s what he’s after.

“How did you find out about him?” she asks, voice low.

“What? Oh. I went down the street for coffee and someone in line there recognized his work. Apparently his style is quite distinctive.” I nod in the direction of my tattoo. “So I went to his shop. He was not happy to see me. But we talked, and he answered some questions. Doubt I’ll see him ever again.”

“I actually used to like the guy,” she says. “Always seemed like a straight shooter, but I guess I read him wrong. Still, I would have taken you to see him if I knew you wanted to go.”

“I’m a big girl, Frances. I can get a cab.”

She rests her head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. “He wasn’t involved in what happened to you. I checked him out. Photos of him at a tattoo convention in Chicago were all over social media.”

“Why would you even think he was involved?”

“Just being careful.”

“Another woman was attacked and robbed in the same area as me the week before. The police officer who interviewed me at the hospital said there’s a good chance the attacks are linked.” The words come faster and faster, until they start to run into each other. “It was random. Not directed at me personally.”

“Don’t get worked up. Like I said, just being careful.” She shrugs. “It’s part of the job description. As a cop. As your sister. No harm in that.”

“Was he ever … ” I swallow. “Was he violent with me? Or anyone?”

“Tattoo parlors are not the most peaceful places in the world, in my experience.” She frowns. “But no, violence was not one of Ed’s faults.”

“From what I’ve seen on daytime TV, people screw around on each other all the time. It’s not that uncommon and it rarely leads to trying to kill the other person.”