sixty-one

Nathan sipped herbal iced tea out of his new water bottle while Zoe bustled around the kitchen, arranging smoked salmon on a plate with a bagel, cream cheese, red onion, capers, and tomato. She’d picked him up from the hospital with water bottle in hand and an exclamation about how much better he looked. “A night away from the ball-and-chain daughter does wonders.”

He set down the bottle and flexed his hand. The swelling had subsided and the scabs had a dry look to them. His toe no longer throbbed, and the stitches on his forehead were due to come out in a few days. The outside healed itself for all to see. Meanwhile, he couldn’t shake the sense that he wasn’t truly here. He couldn’t feel textures with his hands anymore.

Zoe set the bagel in front of him. The pink salmon flesh gaped at him like an open wound, like a taunt at the parts of him that didn’t heal.

“I think a ‘thank you’ cake for Danny’s kids is in order today,” Zoe said. “Above the call of duty for him to take you to the hospital.”

“No need for that. Danny had his reasons. For the investigation.”

Zoe stood with her back to him as she prepared her lunch plate. “I don’t like the sound of that. You aren’t a suspect.”

“You understand why I’m of interest.”

“Well—but there’s nothing to pin on you. So what if you don’t remember where you are most of the time?” She sat down opposite him. Her outstretched hand begged him to meet her halfway. “Dad, please. We’re fine, right?”

“Ay.” Zoe had collected her hair into loose pigtails. The curls cascaded over her shoulders, partially obscuring a chunky blue stone necklace. Lapus lazuli, he remembered. “That necklace—” he said.

She touched it, smiling. “One of my favorites of Mum’s.”

“It suits you.” He poked his fork into the salmon. The chunky stones didn’t suit her, though. They had suited Susannah with her patrician features and statuesque shoulders. She was wearing it the day she died.

Stomach lurching, he forked the salmon over to Zoe’s plate. “Upset stomach from the meds.”

“More for me.” Zoe layered the meat over the salmon she already had and bit. A smear of cream cheese stuck to her lip. Nathan looked away. “I’m excited for the Earrach Festival. Liam asked me to oversee the music, did I tell you? I found a traditional band that also plays popular music.”

One by one, Nathan stuck capers onto the cream cheese on his bagel. “The Sons of Erin?”

“Yes. They’re brilliant. It should be a ball of a time. Plus, I’m going to let Merrit practice matchmaking on me.”

He covered the capers with tomato and onion. “I hope your men friends won’t mind.”

“Men friends?” She grinned. “You say that with such loaded significance. They’re mates, nothing else.”

“That fella from last week—?”

“Sid?” She laughed. “He’s far too serious for me, but he’ll be at the festival. I’ve invited everyone I know. You’ll go, too, right?”

“Yes.” He bit into the bagel. His throat tightened, but he forced himself to chew and swallow. Zoe had already demolished her lunch. She stood and placed her plate in the sink. “I’ll grab a late shower now. You’re fine for the bathroom?”

“I’ll shower in the rain if need be.”

She clapped her hands. “There’s your sense of humor. Fair play.”

He returned her smile and bit into the bagel again. She bounced away and trotted up the stairs to the bathroom. Nathan shoved his lunch down the sink and turned on the garbage disposal. He placed his plate on top of Zoe’s. The serrated bread knife sat on the counter. Nathan ran a finger along its edge, but not hard enough to draw blood.

Rain tapped the windows like skeleton fingers. He opened the knife drawer. He touched each knife in turn. One finger, one tap, until he reached the carving knife. He tapped it until the trembling in his finger subsided. He slid the drawer shut and exited the kitchen.

One of Zoe’s purses hung on the hall stand. Bright yellow with lots of silver buckles and a front pocket. He reached inside it and pulled out her mobile.

A thud startled him. Zoe exclaimed through the noise of the shower. Vexed, by the sound of it, but the water continued to gurgle through the pipes and scented steam continued to leak down the stairs. She must have knocked down the shower caddy again.

Nathan pressed a button on her mobile and groaned. He needed her bloody password. An ache radiated from his tensed shoulders up the back of his head. She wouldn’t be too obvious. Not her birthday or any permutation of her name.

The water gurgle stopped. A cupboard door slammed shut.

The password wouldn’t be all that obscure either. In fact, she’d joked about using the same password for as many sites as possible, some variation of—

Her childhood nickname. She’d reminded him of the name, and he’d had to pretend to remember.

The hair dryer roared to life.

Her password related to that idyllic time when Zoe loved Susannah and Nathan in equal measure, before the mother-daughter strife began. Shirley Temple ringlets and tap dancing lessons and singalongs.

Lollipop.

That was it. On the good ship Lollipop.

The hair dryer shut off.

Nathan tapped in lolipop—Jesus, hurry—and poked repeatedly to insert the second l into the word.

Another bathroom cupboard slammed shut, and the bathroom door opened. Nathan froze.

“Dad?”

“Ay?”

“I forgot to tell you that Danny—Detective Sergeant Ahern—rang to check that you had arrived from the hospital. He’s nice when he’s not harassing you.”

The bathroom door clicked shut again. Nathan exhaled. Danny would keep at him until Nathan cracked in half and oozed out the foulness inside himself called the truth. Whatever that was. Nathan wasn’t sure he knew anymore. Or ever knew, for that matter.

He poked in the l finally, holding his breath again—and he was in. Colorful app icons beckoned him. He opened the contacts app and found Sid under “Sid.” He repeated the phone number to himself under his breath, shoved the mobile back into Zoe’s purse, and ran into the kitchen to write the number down before he forgot.

With the scrap of paper tucked into his pocket, he returned to his seat at the kitchen table and allowed himself a rare moment of satisfaction.