Last Light(20)

God, now I really felt like a scumbag.

Nate beamed at me in the lobby. I caught a touch of guilt in his smile.

“Hannah. Good morning.” He took my suitcase. “Did I scare you off with Shapiro yesterday? Did you get one of these?” He handed me Matt’s memorial card.

Matthew Robert Sky Jr. November 9, 1984–December 2013. “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside quiet waters, He restores my soul…”

There was a picture of Matt on the back.

I skimmed the Twenty-third Psalm until I got to the “valley of the shadow of death” bit. I shoved the card in my pocket.

“Val helped me choose that. Matt liked the Psalms. Beautiful language, right?”

“Yeah, thanks.” I turned up my collar as we headed to the car. I decided not to mention Shapiro. Instead I said, “Matt liked the Bible? That’s news to me.”

Nate put my suitcase in the trunk and started the car. We swung smoothly into morning traffic and my eyes drifted shut.

“Oh, yes, of course. Matt always believed in God. His books are full of biblical allusions. Surely you’ve noticed.”

“Sort of…” Sort of not. My biblical background was woefully weak.

“‘The silver cord,’ that’s from Ecclesiastes 12. Matt’s with God now, of that I have no doubt. He had faith. He had principles. I’m sorry you didn’t get to know that side of him.”

Matt’s faith … Matt’s principles … more of Matt I didn’t know.

“Me too,” I said.

I dozed.

The speed bumps in the airport parking garage woke me, though Nate eased over them as gingerly as possible. He winced when he saw me waking. “Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. Jeez, I passed out.”

“You had a long day yesterday. I’m sorry about Seth, you know. He’s bad with introductions. He thinks…” Nate waved a hand.

He thinks I wrote Night Owl.

“I know,” I said. I was suddenly wide awake, and I did and didn’t want to talk about Night Owl. Now that I knew it first appeared on the Mystic Tavern, I was more confused than ever. I felt like someone was out to get me—or Matt. Or us. But why?

Who stood to gain by sabotaging us like that?

“I want to give you a heads-up, Hannah. Shapiro might be in touch. Also, that reporter at the service?” Nate pulled a face. “I knew his name sounded familiar. Aaron Snow. Turns out he ran that online magazine, Fit to Print. I’m sure you remember.”

“I remember.” I wished I could forget. Last year, Fit to Print exposed Matt as M. Pierce and had a field day with his personal life.

“Seems he’s part of a new online outfit, No Stone Unturned. I swear, some people don’t know when to give up. He thinks he’s a great investigative journalist, I’m sure. He was fixated on Matt, and now on Night Owl. He wanted to speak to you last night. I meant to humor him, only because he wasn’t pressing charges over Seth’s idiocy, but—”

“I snuck out.”

“Right.” Nate chuckled. “Just as well, Hannah. Snow doesn’t know about the lawsuit, and we’ll keep it that way. We don’t need his help. We surely don’t need the media’s attention, online or off. The book has done quite enough damage as is.”

I felt Nate gearing up for another Night-Owl-is-filth-protect-the-family-name speech and I stammered, “I’m starved. Wow, I better grab something to eat before my flight.”

“Please do. They have a lot of eating places in here.” Nate carried my suitcase into the airport. I struggled to keep up with his long-legged stride.

He stood at my side as I checked my bag and received my boarding pass.

“They have those dots. The ice cream dots. Owen loves them.” Nate was peeling bills out of his wallet. “But it’s early for that, isn’t it?” He tried to press the money into my hand.

“Nate, I—I have traveling money.”

“Hannah, please.” He stared off as he pushed the bills against my palm. He closed my fingers around them. “There. Don’t be a stranger. Aren’t you almost part of the family now? It feels that way. I know how much Matt loved you. What a mess we dragged you into.”

I blinked rapidly and took the money. Oh. Oh …

Nate was trying to say good-bye.

“It’s not a mess,” I whispered.

“You’ll come see us again? What do you think, in the spring? Or we’ll come see you. The kids love that zoo in Denver. I know Matt hated the zoo, animals in cages and all that, but the kids…” Nate frowned. He was rambling and seemed to realize it.

I clutched my purse and Nate’s cash and stared up at him, afraid I would cry if I spoke. Here was the most decent guy I knew—truly—and I was lying to him in the worst possible way.

“The kids.” He pulled me into a hug. “They love it.”

“Yeah.” My voice was barely audible.

Nate kept me in his arms, and I felt fine there. Nate wasn’t sleazy like Seth. He wasn’t impulsive like Matt. He was responsible. He was good. I trusted him.

Just before I got in line to go through security, Nate drew an envelope from his inner coat pocket. He handed it to me and nodded. I narrowed my eyes.