“Or maybe he already had it,” Mateo says, turning toward me. “You said other people have access, right, Cal? Any idea who? Any D names?”
I open my mouth to say no—and then abruptly close it, because the memory that’s been poking around the edges of my brain finally hits me full force. Ever since we found the card, I’ve been thinking of D as a student; someone like Boney, who I’d seen walk into Lara’s studio, or like Charlie and Mateo, who were circled on the list in her day planner. Someone like me.
The idea made me jealous, and it also made me shortsighted. Because until now, I completely forgot about Lara dismissing me at Second Street Café so she could take a call.
“Yeah,” I say. “The guy who used to rent the studio, and let Lara use it? His name is Dominick.”
IVY
I can’t even be mad at Cal for not coming out with the Dominick name sooner. None of us have been our best, most straightforward selves today, and there’s no point in losing any more time arguing about it. “How do you know that’s his name?” I ask.
“Lara mentioned him when we were at Second Street Café,” Cal says. “She took a call from him right before I left.”
“Who’s Lara?” Charlie asks.
“Ms. Jamison,” I tell him before opening Google on my phone and typing Dominick artist Boston into the search bar.
Charlie squints at Cal. “Why do you call her by her first name? And what were you doing in a café with her?” Cal turns brick red, and a slow, incredulous grin spreads over Charlie’s face. “Wait. Dude. Are you…are you and Ms. Jamison…” He make an obscene gesture.
“It’s not like that,” Cal says coldly.
“Sure it’s not.” Charlie laughs, extending his fist. “Come on, son, give it up. Respect. Didn’t think you had it in you.”
“Could you dial back the bro, please?” I snap. “It’s not cute.”
Cal ignores us both until I hold out my phone to display a black-and-white picture of a handsome guy with horn-rimmed glasses. “Dominick Payne,” I say. “Local contemporary artist, best known for painting panoramic urban scenes. Do you think this might be him?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Cal says, leaning over my shoulder as I swipe through other images. “It’s not like I ever met the guy, or…hold on.” I pause at an abstract painting of a cityscape. “I think Lara has a signed print of that in her classroom,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “She told me…she told me it was from a friend.”
“Well, there you have it,” I say. Even though this is by far the worst puzzle I’ve ever tried to solve, there’s still satisfaction in watching a piece fall into place. “They’re connected, and they’re both artists, so there’s a good chance he’s the Dominick she was talking to. The next question is, is he also D?”
“And/or a drug dealer,” Cal says.
“Right. Mateo, what do you think?” I ask. When he doesn’t answer, I look up to see him frowning over his own phone. “Mateo? Did you hear us?”
“Huh?” He glances up, and although I didn’t think it was possible, he looks even more drawn and pale than he did when he learned his cousin stole a small fortune in pills. “Oh yeah. Sorry. I did, but I’ve been trying to text Autumn and she’s not answering me. She probably hasn’t checked her phone all day and has no idea what’s been going on.” A muscle twitches in his cheek. “And she needs to. So I guess I’m gonna have to go to her.”
“Go to her?” I echo. “How will you even find her if she’s driving around?”
“I’ll call Sorrento’s and ask for her route,” Mateo says, looking around my living room until his gaze settles on the door that leads into the kitchen. “You guys still have that breakfast nook?” he asks with a half smile. The built-in bench in front of our bay window was always Mateo’s favorite place to eat when he came to my house. I nod, and he adds, “I’ll call from there so you guys can keep talking. Can I get myself a glass of water while I’m at it?”
My heart skips as we lock eyes. I’m trying to focus, but even though Mateo looks like the embodiment of this very bad day—bruised face, bloody T-shirt, disheveled hair—I still wish that I could wrap my arms around him and forget everything else. When he kissed me earlier, the horrors of today melted away and for a few blissful seconds, I was exactly where I wanted to be, with the only person I’ve ever wanted to be with. His confession about Autumn shocked me, but not in the way he probably thinks. I don’t judge him for that; how could I? It doesn’t change the way I feel about him. I don’t think anything will.
But even if I get out of this mess, I can’t do anything about it. Mateo might feel the same way now, but he won’t once I finally stop lying to him.
“Ivy?” Mateo prompts when I don’t answer. “Is that a yes on the water, or…?”
“What? No. I mean yes. I mean, help yourself to whatever.” He disappears into the kitchen, and I turn back to Cal and try to adopt a businesslike tone. “Okay, where were we?”