Don't Look for Me(60)

Nic didn’t respond. These were relationships that went back many years. Kurt had wanted to get out but got stuck here. Booth lost the love of his life. Reyes lost his future to a horrible misfortune and now had to be grateful for the scraps Watkins threw his way. And Watkins—Nic couldn’t even begin to unravel him.

Her phone rang.

“Excuse me a second.”

It was her father’s number. She closed her eyes, shook her head. She didn’t want to deal with this now.

“Hey, Dad,” she said.

He did not return the greeting.

“Where are you right now?” he asked.

“Back at the inn. I was about to go upstairs,” she lied. She didn’t want to explain why she was at the bar at eleven a.m. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“I’m sending you a photo. It’s from Mark.”

Mark—the PI her father had hired.

“Did he find her?” The world stopped for one short moment.

“No, no—I’m sorry, I should have explained this better. I had him look into that woman, Edith Moore. It’s just too strange that she waited this long to come forward.”

Nic had been so preoccupied with Chief Watkins and Daisy Hollander, Reyes and Booth and Kurt Kent, she had nearly forgotten about Edith Moore and the lie she’d told about having been in New York.

“Listen—she met with a man in the parking lot of the hospital where she works as a nurse. I couldn’t place him, but I swear he looks familiar. Like someone we met in Hastings. Schenectady is a long way to go for a visit in a parking lot.”

Nic felt a shiver.

“Can you send it?”

“I just did. Put me on speaker. I don’t want to lose you.”

Nic hit the speaker button, then opened the text from her father. She could easily make out Edith Moore. The other figure was slightly hidden behind her, but she had no trouble making him out either. He was unmistakable.

No …

“Nic? Did you get it?”

Nic took the phone off speaker and held it to her ear. She smiled and slid down from the bar stool. Her cheeks were trembling.

“Do you know who it is?” her father asked.

She held her hand over the receiver as she started to walk toward the door. Kurt was watching her carefully, curious now.

“I have to go—something back home,” she said to him.

But he didn’t believe her. She could tell by the expression that didn’t change.

“Nicole!” her father said again in the phone, pleading with her to answer.

With the phone still pressed to her ear, she bounded the last few steps until she was at the door. She swung it open and walked outside, then raced across the street.

“Nic? Are you there?”

Finally, she stopped moving.

“I’m here,” she said, standing at the edge of the parking lot for the inn.

Her father repeated the question.

“Nic—do you know that man?”

She exhaled to calm her voice. Then she answered.

“Yeah, I do.”





27


Day fifteen





I hear the car outside. So does Alice, and she leaves me to run to the front door.

We have been doing her schoolwork through the bars, making sure Dolly sees us.

I hear a high-pitched squeal of excitement. Then a man’s deep laughter.

They go to the kitchen. Cupboards open and close. Voices muted. Plates. Glasses clanking.

I sit with my back to the camera and make no motions. I am perfectly still on the outside.

On the inside, I am racing—to the end of this day, to my escape.

Time passes. I hear footsteps and turn. It’s Alice with a tray of food. Not the usual peanut butter sandwich. Today I have grilled cheese and tomato soup.

“It’s so good if you dip the sandwich into the soup!” she explains.

She opens the bottom panel. She slides the tray through, then relocks it.

I wonder now why she has brought me the food and not Mick. Usually he does it when he’s home with us.

“Why did you bring the tray?” I decide to ask her.

Alice shrugs. “I don’t know. He asked me to do it.”

This, and he hasn’t looked at me since he slept in the bed with us.

She stands now, watching me.

“Do it!” she says.

I look up at her from my spot on the floor.

“Do what?” I ask. And I ask so nicely.

“Dip the sandwich in the soup!”

“I will,” I say. “You don’t have to watch me. I know he’s waiting for you in the kitchen. He came home just to see you, right?”

It was not easy to remember to ask a question. I feel anger boiling up as I sit behind my bars. An animal trapped. There is no way around it, the feeling this provokes.

“He came home with groceries so you can make dinner later. Just like he promised! And besides, he’s busy cleaning up.”

Alice crosses her arms defiantly.

“Do it!” she commands again. “Take a bite!”

I force out a smile. I take the sandwich and dip a corner in the soup. I put it to my mouth and insert it and close my lips around it and pull off a portion with my teeth.

I gag as I chew and swallow, making facial expressions and sounds of culinary delight.