21

Preach lost Nate in the woods, and by the time the detective returned to the baseball field, there was no sign of any of the kids. Alana he could track down over the weekend, but he had the feeling Nate would go deeper underground than before.

Could he have murdered David?

It was possible, though Preach doubted it. What he did think was that Nate knew more than he was letting on.

After returning to the car, he filled Ari in on what had happened, and they headed home. Preach was annoyed at himself for letting Nate get the best of him, but he forced himself to shake it off and enjoy the rest of the evening.

In the morning, he planned to kick the investigation into high gear. Enlist some of the other officers to dig deeper into phone and email records, track down every lead, reinterview as many witnesses as possible.

There was an invisible thread running through this town that connected to David’s murder; he could feel it.

When they arrived at his house, Ari poured the bourbon while Preach made a fire on the screened porch.

She curled into the hammock, and he slid in beside her, breathing in the familiar jasmine of her perfume. In this age of social media and information overload, things for which he had no intrinsic dislike but which in his opinion had far outstripped their purpose, he loved to lounge on the screen porch with Ari while the forest came alive around them, the pure deep black of the night sky replacing blue lights and tiny screens.

“It was nice to see that part of you” she said, the hammock gently rocking as the bourbon warmed their bellies. “The high school.”

“It’s a part better seen from afar,” he said. “After a few decades have passed.”

“At least you had a childhood. I was all over the globe.”

Ari’s parents, he knew, were teachers at international schools, and she had moved every two years her entire childhood. As she had once put it, her lifestyle was a “social death sentence for a kid.”

He said, “I had cliques and keg parties; you had culture and travel.” “You had friends and dates; I dressed as a goth and had birthday parties with my parents. Who weren’t very fun and didn’t like my outfits.”

“Maybe we should agree that we both survived our childhoods in one piece,” he said. “Despite the circumstances.”

She released his hand and reached up to stroke his cheek, though her gaze was in another place, another time. She had once told him, after drinking too much wine, that her parents had never wanted to have a child. He didn’t know if there was any truth to that, but he knew she had begged them not to move schools, time and again, and they had always put their careers and travel lust first.

The troubles of the past fell away as they had another drink and began to kiss. When he tried to remove her jacket, they almost fell out of the hammock, and she put a finger on his lips.

“Not here,” she said. “It’s too cold.”

He set his drink down and scooped her up. “That’s better,” she purred, as he carried her inside, locked the door behind them, and started toward the loft.

“The couch,” she said, running her hands under his shirt and along the ridges in his stomach. “The bedroom’s too far.”

Thrumming with desire and feeling closer to Ari than any woman he had ever known, he set her down on the sofa, and she slipped out of her jacket and sweater. He slid a hand behind her back to undo her bra. “Wait,” she whispered.

“For what?”

“Music” she said, with a giggle. “I can’t make love in silence. It makes me laugh.”

“Makes you laugh?”

“Have you ever listened to yourself in bed?”

As he spluttered for a response, she grinned and slid off the couch, then padded to the iPhone dock in the kitchen. After a few moments passed and he didn’t hear any music, he glanced over and found her studying his phone.

“Is the Internet down?” he asked. “I have a CD player.”

No answer.

“Ari?”

Finally she looked up. “So did you swing by?”

“Sorry?”

She walked over to retrieve her shirt from the floor and slipped it back on. “When Claire texted that she needed you. Did you go?”

He stilled. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Twelve texts in the last three days ?”

“It’s my job, Ari. I’m working her case.”

“No, you’re not. You’re working David’s case. You don’t even know that she’s innocent. All of which is beside the point. Did you go to her?”“I swung by her house to check on her, yes. That’s all. She’s emotionally . . .”

“Vulnerable? I bet she is. God, there are so many things wrong with this I don’t know where to start. So I won’t even try. I’ll just finish it by leaving.” She threw her jacket on and grabbed her shoes by the front door.

“There’s nothing to explain,” he said, though he winced at the halftruth. He decided, right then and there, not to be a fool and try to pretend nothing had happened. “She’s beautiful, I admit. I had a crush on her once. I still find her attractive, as I’m sure you find many young and handsome lawyers in the courtroom attractive.”

“Don’t.”

“But that’s it,” he said. “I don’t want Claire. I want you.”

“The texts on your phone, hidden from your girlfriend, say otherwise.”

“I wasn’t hiding them.”

“You should have.”

He sighed. “No, I shouldn’t have let it happen in the first place. It’s just that I’ve known her for years and her son was just murdered and

I . . .”

“Jesus, Joe, it’s not like I don’t understand that. I’m not the jealous type. A text or an email twice a year is one thing, especially with someone who could never be a threat, but I need you ? And then all those texts ? From someone who looks like her?”

“Please don’t go,” he said softly, as she opened the door.

“Do you want someone like her? Older, taller, tanner? You never got over her, did you?”

“Ari—”

“I saw the way you looked at her at the funeral. I tried to tell myself I was overreacting, but it was the opposite. Is that why we went to the game tonight? In case she showed up?”

He shook his head. “Of course not. I’m sorry about the text.”

I m sorry too.

He started toward her, but she walked out and slammed the door behind her.