Chương 5
“I described the label.”
“Hannah.”
“I didn’t give your name.”
“You were told not to tell anyone.”
“I was told not to tell anyone about Lucy.”
That was technically true, which irritated me more.
“What did your friend say?”
“She said the code format is commonly used for customized ophthalmic preparations.”
“That means?”
“It means whatever is in there may have been specifically compounded.”
“For me.”
“Maybe.”
I stood too quickly and struck my thigh against the desk.
Pain flashed down my leg.
Hannah took one step toward me.
I raised a hand.
“Don’t.”
She stopped.
“I’m fine.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were going to.”
“I was going to move the chair.”
That made me angrier because she was probably telling the truth.
I took two slow breaths.
“Can the bottle be tested?”
“Yes.”
“Without destroying all of it?”
“Probably.”
“Find out how.”
“Grant.”
Her use of my first name stopped me.
She almost never did it.
“What?”
“If you’re right, whoever is doing this has had five years to build routines around you.”
I said nothing.
“If you’re wrong, you’re about to accuse people who kept you alive after the worst day of your life.”
“I haven’t accused anyone.”
“Not out loud.”
She came closer.
“I’m asking you to be careful.”
“With whom?”
“Everyone.”
That evening, Cross joined me for dinner without invitation.
He had done that often after the explosion.
At first, I needed company.
Later, he simply kept coming.
He ate steak too quickly and always left the asparagus.
Tonight, he barely touched anything.
“You seeing this eye doctor tomorrow because something changed?”
I cut into my dinner.
“No.”
“You get headaches?”
“No.”
“Pain?”
“No.”
“You seeing flashes?”
My knife stopped.
“Why would you ask that?”
Cross took a drink of water.
“Hale used to ask you.”
“That doesn’t mean you should.”
“Jesus, Grant.”
He put the glass down.
“I’m trying to help.”
“Then help by driving.”
“You think I’m hiding something?”
The question came too fast.
For several seconds, the only sound was silverware from the far end of the table, where Lucy had been allowed to eat because Hannah was working late.
She was trying to trap peas beneath an upside-down spoon.
“No,” I said.
Cross gave a humorless laugh.
“That sounded convincing.”
“You asked a stupid question.”
“I’ve known you twenty years.”
“Fifteen.”
“Feels like twenty.”
Lucy dropped her spoon.
It clattered to the floor.
Everyone went silent.
Then she whispered, “Sorry.”
Cross laughed.
“Kid, if that’s the worst thing that happens at this table, we’re having a good night.”
Lucy giggled.
Hannah retrieved the spoon.
The tension loosened just enough to breathe.
Cross leaned back.
“I’ll pick you up at eight.”
“I live here.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes.”
He stood.
At the doorway, he stopped.
“Hale called me today.”
There it was.
My fingers tightened around the knife handle.
“What did he want?”
“To know if you seemed agitated.”
“And what did you tell him?”
“That you always seem agitated.”
Lucy laughed again.
Cross did not.
“He said you asked about new imaging.”
I put the knife down.
“Did he tell you why that concerned him?”
“He said grief does strange things when anniversaries come around.”
The anniversary was eleven weeks away.
Cross knew that.
I knew that.
Hale knew that.
“So you believed him?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“What did you say?”
Cross was quiet for so long I could hear the refrigerator compressor start in the adjoining pantry.
“I told him to ask you himself.”
He left.
Hannah waited until the front door closed.
“You still want him driving tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because if he is hiding something, changing the routine tells him I know enough to be afraid.”
“And if he isn’t?”
“Then I’ve insulted one of the few men who stayed.”
Lucy pushed her peas into a little green pile.
“Mr. Grant?”
“Yes?”
“Are you scared?”
Hannah inhaled sharply.
I could have lied.
Adults lie to children constantly in the name of kindness.
I had done it with Emma.
Thunder cannot hurt you.
The dog went to live on a farm.
Daddy isn’t worried.
“Yes,” I said.
Lucy considered that.
Then she lifted her flashlight from beneath the table and clicked it on.
Hannah groaned.
“Where did you even get that?”
“I kept it.”
The beam found my face.
I saw nothing.
But somewhere inside the darkness, my pupils became smaller.
And for the first time, I wondered whether blindness was the only thing that had been taken from me.
Morning arrived before I slept.
At seven thirty, I stood in the dressing room while Hannah fastened the cuff of my shirt because I had put the button through the wrong hole twice and refused to try a third time.
“You’re angry at the shirt now,” she said.
“I’m angry at buttons.”
“That’s a broader problem.”
“Buttons have had it coming.”
She let go of my wrist.
For a second, neither of us moved.
Then she said, “You can cancel.”
“No.”
“You can also go without Cross.”
“No.”
“You can also stop answering everything with one syllable.”
“No.”
That earned the smallest laugh from her.
I found my jacket on the back of the chair.
“Is Lucy awake?”
“She’s watching cartoons and eating toast in a way that suggests both activities are competitive sports.”
“Don’t bring her downstairs before we leave.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“She doesn’t need to see Cross.”
Hannah went still.
“You think he might do something?”
“I don’t know.”
“That is not a reassuring answer.”
“It’s the only one I have.”
She adjusted my collar unnecessarily.
Her fingers were careful.
“You spent all night deciding not to trust anyone.”
“No.”
“Who do you trust?”
I considered giving her a clever answer.
None came.
“At the moment?”
“Yes.”
“You.”
Her hand stopped at my shoulder.
That admission felt more dangerous than accusing Cross.
Hannah stepped back.
May you like
“Well,” she said quietly, “that seems like poor judgment.”
Cross arrived at eight on the dot and brought coffee.
