So she told herself that probably he was telling the truth about Nason, or at least not completely lying. He was rich and powerful, wasn’t he? And friends with the chief of police? With a brother who was a senator? So many people seemed afraid of him, or in awe of him. A man like that would have ways of finding someone, if he wanted to.
There was so much she didn’t know or understand, but she wasn’t stupid. She knew he might be holding back information about Nason to make Livia more cooperative. But her need to believe about Nason was so strong that she could endure what he liked to do in the bathroom. It was disgusting, but not as disgusting as what Skull Face and his men had made her do. It would happen, and then he would leave, and she would get dressed and lie down on her bed and study even harder. The bathroom became just another secret, something to close up and hide in a dark mental box, alongside the hate she kept there.
23—NOW
Masnick was careful about his burner, mostly keeping it powered off and never turning it on alongside his personal cell phone. But once Livia knew the burner was his, all she had to do was start tracking the personal unit. So when the personal unit showed up at the Trader Joe’s in Shoreline one morning two days after Livia had listened in on Masnick’s conversation with Jardin, Livia made sure to be there, too, picking up some frozen dinners, a container of mixed berries, a box of cereal, and a few bottles of wine.
Masnick was perusing the endless refrigerated shelves of beer with names like Ice Harbor Runaway Red Ale and Reuben’s Brews Robust Porter and Snoqualmie Falls Wildcat IPA. She headed toward him, her eyes on the shelves, drifting along until her cart smacked into his with a metal clang. “Oh!” she said. “I’m sorry. I should pay more attention to where I’m going.”
He looked at her face, then glanced down to take in the rest of her. She was wearing yoga tights, the outfit calculated to get his attention. She didn’t doubt Masnick’s feelings for Jardin, but in the end he was a Hammerhead—not a species renowned for worship of monogamy.
“Uh, no,” he said, looking into her eyes and smiling. “That’s okay.”
She smiled back. “This’ll teach me to do the grocery shopping before I’ve had a cup of coffee. I need to figure out where things are around here.”
“What, are you new in town?”
“Yeah, up from San Francisco. Still getting my bearings.”
“Well, if you like coffee, Seattle’s the right place.”
“That’s what I hear. Though I’ll tell you, San Francisco’s pretty hard to beat in the coffee department. Got any recommendations?”
He laughed. “I tend to fuel up at a place called Black Rock. You’re not going to find as much here in Shoreline as in Seattle, or in San Francisco, I guess, but with Black Rock you won’t miss it, either.”
She gave him an appreciative nod. “Thanks. I’m Suzy, by the way.”
He gave her body another look, then extended a hand. “Good to meet you, Suzy. I’m Mike.”
She shook his hand, holding it just a tad longer than decorum alone would dictate. “Well, Mike, do you mind if I take advantage of short acquaintance to ask you another question about the neighborhood?”
He glanced at her shopping cart. She could see him doing the math based on her groceries—a woman living alone. A woman who might enjoy a glass of wine before eating her microwaved dinner, to take the edge off. And maybe another with dinner, to keep the edge off. And maybe another after dinner, to kill the edge entirely.
“Hey, happy to help.”
“So, I’ve got a Westie mix. Ginger’s her name. Where’s a good place to take her to let her off the leash?”
“Easy. Saltwater Park.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. It’s at Richmond Beach. Right here in Shoreline.” He looked her up and down again. “And you look like you’re into staying fit, yeah?”
“You guessed it.”
“Well, you’d be amazed at the workout you can get going up and down the stairs there.” He smiled. “I go a lot around sunset. Probably be there tonight. You should come by. You could introduce me to Ginger.”
She smiled back. “I might just do that, Mike.”
24—THEN
Over the winter holidays, Livia heard the doorbell ring, and then voices in the foyer. The voices died down, and she thought whoever had come to the door had left. But a little while later, when she emerged from her room to get a snack, she found Mrs. Lone sitting at the kitchen table with a visitor. They were drinking coffee and laughing. Livia thought she had never seen Mrs. Lone so at ease and happy. But as soon as she saw Livia, her face closed up into its customary pinched look.
The visitor smiled when he saw Livia, then pushed back his chair and stood. He looked a little older than Mrs. Lone, with hair the color of sand mixed with ash. He wasn’t a big man, but there was something . . . solid about him. The way his feet were planted on the ground, the way his arms hung at his sides, maybe. It was as though he was relaxed, but also ready.
Mrs. Lone didn’t get up. Her voice cool, she said, “Livia, this is my brother. Officer Harris.”