I tilted my head back, looking the deer right in the eye. “I know you’re watching me. I can tell, you know, even without the little red light to give you away.”
I sat cross-legged on the floor, put my chin in my hand. The shop was quiet, save for the chirps of various surveillance equipment, a noise like well-behaved robot crickets. I could hear the drip drip drip of the faucet, the hum of the electric lights, the muffled roar of the gas heater. The noises blended into the smells—gunpowder and leather and tobacco and strong coffee—and I realized with a pang it was the smell of home.
“It’s okay. I watch you too sometimes. Like when I come to bed and you’re already asleep. Some days I can’t believe you’re real and not a figment of my imagination.” I fixed my eyes on the red light. “You’re probably close to Buckhead by now. At least I hope you are. It’s nasty out, and getting nastier.”
As if in response, the wind surged, and I heard a branch snap and tumble to the ground with a muffled thud. I held my breath waiting for the electricity to flicker, but the current stayed on. So did the red light.
“You left all your paperwork. I’ll put it with mine. And then when the storm’s done, we’ll dump it all on your dinner table and see how it connects. Because I’m betting it does. I’m betting the skeleton in my closet and the skeleton in the Amberdecker woods and the skeleton we still haven’t found are all part of one whopping story, and if anybody can figure it out, it’s you and me. We make a great team, boyfriend. Which reminds me.”
I leaned over and dragged my tote bag into my lap. I pulled out a piece of paper and held it up.
“This isn’t finished yet, but here’s the idea I was telling you about, my contribution to your seduction strategy. Besides me learning to be more patient, of course.” I unfolded it and turned it to face the camera. “It’s a flowchart, see? It starts with a single box here—that’s you, taking one step forward. One step. Then based on the response you get from me, you choose the next action. It’s all linear except for some…what do you call it? Circular non-divergence? And you’re quite familiar with this section already, so nothing new there. Except for this sequence…” I pointed to the lower right corner. “It may seem a little odd, but just go with it, trust me.”
A spatter of sleet lashed the window, mixing with the snow. Soon it would freeze, and the power lines singing in the whiplash wind would grow heavy with ice. The shadows of the tossing tree branches wove patterns on the wall.
I tucked my knees against my chest. “I suppose you saw my little freak-out when I was talking to Rico. You told me that PTSD triggers are complicated, but mine is pretty specific—it’s feeling trapped. Rooms. Circumstances. Expectations. Anything where I’m not in control. And when one hits, it’s Savannah all over again, those hours before I finally found you, when I didn’t know if you were alive or…not. So last Sunday, when you locked me in the safe room and went off into the darkness, that was a trigger. And now, with the storm, and you out there somewhere, where I can’t get to you…”
My voice broke, and I focused on the red blinking light. I recognized the vulnerability behind that ruby glow. Trey had covers for his empty places, perfectly engineered ones that camouflaged the abyss below. He wasn’t the only one. And as I sat alone in that cramped messy room, all the memories flooded back—every kiss, every hesitation, every blush, every sideways glance, him in the dark bottom of that boat, lifting his head at the sound of my voice, him in the dark of the bedroom, his mouth against mine—and I got dizzy with the weight of what he meant to me.
“Trey Seaver, I know you’d never hurt me. I know it with my whole heart. I know the kind of damage you’re capable of inflicting—and yes, that’s scary to see, I’ll admit—but you are the best man I know, good and true all the way to your middle. I keep saying, over and over and over, that I’m not going anywhere. And I’m not. I’m right here.” I squared my shoulders, took a deep breath. “And I’ve got something to tell you. It’s something I should have told you when I first figured it out, and as soon as I lay eyes on you again—”
My phone started ringing.
I smiled up into the red light. “Took you long enough.” And then I put it up to my ear. “Hey, boyfriend.”
But the voice on the other end was unfamiliar. “Excuse me?”
Not Trey. I yanked the phone down and checked the display. It was an unknown number, from an unknown area code. I put it back against my ear. “I’m sorry, I thought you were…who is this?”
A hesitation. “I’m calling for Tai Randolph?”
“Speaking.”
“This is Professor Geoffrey Walker. I’ve been told that you may have found the bones of my great-great-grandmother?”