Chương 14
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know.”
Sophie smiled a little.
Mr. Palmer pointed his spatula at her.
“Guest room has terrible sheets.”
“I can handle it.”
“They have sailboats.”
“That is pretty bad.”
“See?”
I almost said no.
Then I looked at the open shed.
At the mud beneath the gate.
At the cruiser carrying Grant.
Accepting help felt harder than it should have.
That was probably reason enough to do it.
“One night.”
Mr. Palmer nodded.
“One night.”
Ruiz approved.
“We’ll have officers around for a while anyway.”
I looked toward my front door.
“I need medication, clothes, chargers.”
“I can have an officer walk through with you.”
“I don’t need an escort.”
Ruiz said nothing.
I sighed.
“Yes, I do.”
Sophie smiled around the last bite of hot dog.
“Progress.”
“You are enjoying this.”
“A little.”
We entered the house with Officer Patel ten minutes later.
The rooms looked exactly as we had left them.
That bothered me.
A violation is easier to process when something obvious is broken.
The couch pillows were crooked.
A cereal bowl sat in the sink.
Sophie’s backpack lay near the stairs.
Normal life waited everywhere.
Patel checked the downstairs rooms first.
I stood near the entry while Sophie hovered behind me.
He returned.
“Clear.”
The word triggered something old.
Too old.
I saw a corridor that was not my hallway.
Concrete walls.
Red light.
A gloved hand signaling from a doorway.
I blinked.
Sophie touched my arm.
“Mom?”
“I’m okay.”
“You did the face.”
“What face?”
“The one Grandma does when she remembers Dad.”
I stared at her.
Apparently everyone had a face.
“I’m fine.”
She looked unconvinced.
I sent her upstairs with Patel while I packed a small bag.
Then I stopped.
No.
I was not sending her anywhere in a house that had just become part of an investigation without being beside her.
“Wait.”
Patel turned.
“I’ll come.”
He nodded as though that made sense.
Sophie did not comment.
Her bedroom was messy in the ordinary way.
Books under the desk.
Two socks on the lamp.
The cardboard cat apartment still sat by the window, furnished with a folded washcloth and a plastic saucer.
The cat had never entered it.
“Do you think Pickles will be okay?”
I looked at her.
“Pickles?”
“The cat.”
“You named the stray cat?”
“Obviously.”
“What if his name is something else?”
“He doesn’t answer to anything.”
“Strong evidence.”
She packed pajamas and a toothbrush.
Then she pulled a framed photograph from her dresser.
It was the three of us from Natalie’s wedding anniversary dinner.
Me.
Sophie.
Natalie.
Grant stood behind us with one hand on Sophie’s shoulder.
Travis was making rabbit ears over my head.
Sophie stared at it.
“You taking that?”
“No.”
She placed it facedown.
Then she changed her mind.
She picked it up again.
“Can I put this away somewhere?”
“Sure.”
“Not throw it away.”
“I understand.”
“I just don’t want to see it.”
“I understand that too.”
She slipped it into the bottom drawer beneath old school notebooks.
Patel waited by the door without looking directly at us.
I appreciated him for that.
In my room, I packed clothes, a charger, and the small lockbox containing my current identification and personal documents.
My hand stopped over the fireproof case beneath the winter blankets.
Inside were medals.
Orders.
Photographs.
Things Sophie had never seen.
I had spent years telling myself secrecy protected her.
That afternoon had shown me secrecy could also create distance.
I opened the case.
The first thing inside was a photograph of my old team.
Eight people in dusty uniforms standing beside a transport aircraft.
I was younger.
Thinner.
Angrier.
Major Claire Mercer was written in black marker across the back.
Sophie appeared beside me.
Patel remained outside.
“Is that you?”
“Yes.”
She leaned closer.
“You look weird.”
“Thank you.”
“No, younger.”
“Better.”
“And kind of mean.”
“That may also be accurate.”
She pointed at the woman beside me.
“Who’s she?”
“Renee Walker.”
“Friend?”
I hesitated.
“Yes.”
“Still?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“She died.”
Sophie’s hand dropped.
“Oh.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“That doesn’t mean you don’t care.”
No.
It didn’t.
I closed the case.
Then opened it again.
I took the photograph.
Sophie watched.
“Why that one?”
“Because you asked.”
She nodded.
That was enough.
Downstairs, the house smelled faintly of the cinnamon candle I had burned that morning.
I blew it out even though it had already extinguished itself hours ago.
Habit.
Control.
Tiny pointless actions that made leaving feel less like fleeing.
Outside, Natalie waited near the front steps.
The police were still processing the shed.
Grant’s cruiser had gone.
So had Edward’s.
The street looked enormous without them.
Natalie rubbed her arms.
“Can I stay with you tonight?”
The question surprised me.
Sophie looked at her.
Mr. Palmer looked away politely.
“Why?”
I asked.
Natalie glanced toward the Caldwell estate.
“I don’t want to go in there.”
“You could get a hotel.”
“I know.”
“Your friends?”
“I don’t want to explain.”
I almost laughed.
“You’re asking me because you don’t want to explain?”
She winced.
“Fair.”
Sophie spoke before I could.
“Mr. Palmer has two extra rooms.”
He looked at her.
“Apparently I’m running a motel.”
Natalie managed a weak smile.
“I can pay.”
He frowned.
“That was a joke.”
“Oh.”
“Also don’t insult me.”
“Sorry.”
He looked at me.
I looked at Sophie.
She shrugged.
“She can stay if she doesn’t make me forgive her.”
Natalie’s eyes filled again.
“I won’t.”
I nodded.
“One night.”
Mr. Palmer sighed theatrically.
“I’m going to need more towels.”
We crossed to his house together.
For the first time in years, Natalie walked beside me without Grant or Travis shaping the space around her.
She looked smaller than I remembered.
Not physically.
Just less certain.
At Mr. Palmer’s door, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Claire Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“This is Daniel Ross with Fairfax County Land Records.”
May you like
I stopped.
“How did you get my number?”
