The Speed of Light: A Novel(65)

He pauses. “Well, I won’t be getting back until super late, and then I have to be at work crazy early tomorrow. It’s gonna be long days all week on two different job sites to make up for all the people who covered while I was in the Cities. I’m sorry, babe.”

God, I am just so ready to talk to him, get it out in the open. “It’s okay,” I say at last, trying to hold back my disappointment. “We’ll see each other soon, right?”

“Absolutely.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”



As the week goes on, though, that promise proves difficult to keep. Connor works into the evening every day, going directly from the on-campus residence hall site to a new housing development going up northeast of Sioux Falls.

By Thursday night I’m anxious. We haven’t made any concrete plans to see each other yet—we haven’t even talked all week, dammit, only quick texts back and forth. I’m aching to talk to him about our relationship—rip it off like a Band-Aid.

Finally, fueled by two glasses of wine and a late-night viewing of Bridget Jones on Netflix, I decide to call him the only time I know he’ll be home: after midnight.

He picks up on the third ring, breathless and disoriented. “Simone? What’s wrong?”

A pang of guilt hits, but I squash it away. “Everything’s fine—I just haven’t talked to you all week.”

He lets out a breath. “Shit, you scared me. I fell asleep on the couch. Just a sec.” I hear shuffling; then the laugh track of a late-night show in the background clicks off into silence. “I know, this week has really sucked.”

“It just seems like we could’ve at least seen each other by now. Like, even a quick coffee or something.”

He sighs. “I promise I’m doing my best. Between picking up extra shifts and my classes, I’ve just had no time.”

His voice is patient, yet pointedly so, like he’s a saint for appeasing me—it stings, but I move on. “Do you have to work this weekend?”

Connor sighs. “Another long day tomorrow, but then Saturday won’t be as long. So how about dinner Saturday night?”

“That sounds great.” I hesitate, suddenly feeling shy, vulnerable. “I miss you.”

“God, I miss you, too, babe.” His voice is husky. “A lot. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

I smile. “Okay.”

I’m still smiling when I end the call, confident that, despite the twinge in my gut, everything will soon be back to the way it should be.





PART TEN

BETRAYAL





Monday, December 6, 10:17 a.m.

They say you spend more time with the people you work with than your own family—they might annoy the hell out of you, but when it comes down to it, you’re in the trenches together every day, and there’s a certain solidarity to it. A certain loyalty.

Not anymore.

Because the second voice belongs to Stan.

Stan is the other shooter.

Outside the closet the argument continues, but in here my mind races, the sting of blind betrayal hot and sharp. I trace back through the past several months. How did I miss this? Stan seemed sad sometimes, and things were likely rougher with Louise than he was letting on, but there’s been nothing that would point to him going on a shooting rampage at our office.

Across from me Hayley sucks in a breath, and it pulls me back—I focus on their conversation outside the closet.

“Where’s the body?” Chet barks. “Somebody moved it.”

I meet Hayley’s wide eyes again, and terror floods me.

“I . . . thought you did,” Stan says timidly.

“You fucking idiot—the door was blocked when I got here.”

“I don’t—” Stan begins, but Chet suddenly shushes him.

The room drops back into an eerie silence, and my entire body goes cold with a terrible realization: Nikki’s blood is all over the floor.

It’s surely left a path, pointing them right to the closet.

They know where we are.





CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

July 24, five months before

I wake Saturday morning feeling more energized than I have in a long time, like I’m moving in the right direction and it’s pointing directly to Connor. The combination of deciding to take action, knowing exactly when I’m going to talk to him, and realizing how much I miss him and he misses me makes me think maybe we’ll be okay after all. Maybe this is a conversation we should’ve had right away. Maybe my fears could’ve been alleviated sooner.

I’m not meeting Connor until this evening, but by late morning my adrenaline is primed. I need to get out of my apartment. Nikki and Claudia are out of town again visiting Claudia’s mother, so I drive downtown and set out on a solo run. It’s early enough not to be too hot, but I won’t push myself today anyway—just a nice leisurely jog to let out some energy. Phillips Avenue runs me straight into downtown Sioux Falls, and I lope breezily past shops and restaurants, dipping out of the way of window-shoppers and dog-walkers.

On my left, a bridal store’s glass front window winks sunlight at me, sparkly white-dressed mannequins staring from the display, their plastic frozen smiles flashing the promise of possibility. My heart beats faster, adrenaline and optimism forming a dangerously confident concoction.