I look at Elisa. Javi. Lydia. They all blink at me, silent. Then, Lydia nods her head, just once.
“Yes.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Henry stands in the doorway of the shop, his hands on his hips. At the sight of him, my chest pops with relief. He looks like hell, his hair is disheveled, his face is red on one side, like he’s been sleeping on it. I push up off the chair and I’m across the room in seconds. I stand in front of him, unsure, until he pulls me against his chest, which feels foreign and familiar at the same time.
“You’re here. How? I didn’t even have time to call you.”
“Zoe, I tried to call you, about ten times. You tell me someone is chasing you and then I hear nothing back. Except you stayed at Lydia’s.” He surveys the room and sees Elisa, and gives her a nod of recognition.
Lydia opens her mouth to protest and then closes it, shakes her head, keeping the secret. I half thought she’d blurt it out, right there: Zoe didn’t stay with me. Despite our gulf, she keeps it.
Yates pulls me away from Henry and I realize the refrigerator still hums in the corner, spitting out cold air through the broken glass. My arms gooseflesh. “Zoe, listen to me. I need you to be careful, do you understand me? You can’t go back to your apartment. We’ll put you under surveillance. Come to the station.”
“Yes,” I say automatically.
“Not an option. I’m getting her out of here.” Henry crosses his arms over his chest. This is his Henry pose, the one I’ve seen at parties; where most men relax, hold a drink, let their arms drape around a woman’s shoulders, Henry stands like he is keeping guard. He, himself, is a counterargument. His hand on Pink Spandex. His eyes flick to Cash, cold and dismissive. His expression, tight eyebrows, slightly turned chin, say, We have things to discuss. I wonder then if he will bring an agenda. He turns to Yates. “Is she done?”
Yates nods. “Technically, yes. For now. I think it’s best that you stay at a hotel. Somewhere in the city.”
“Yes. I understand that.” Henry holds his arm out, toward me. I know he’s thinking of Fishing Lake. My mind spins.
“She needs to stay close by, Mr. Whittaker.” Yates’s voice is stern, in a way I’ve never heard another person talk to him. “This is an active investigation. We need to be able to get a hold of Zoe.”
“Yes, Officer, I understand that. I have a house about an hour away.” He’s resolute and Yates pushes her mouth together, her arms on her hips, her starched blue uniform gapping in the chest. Her broad shoulders rival Henry’s and she looks at him, just as determined.
“I’d advise to keep her here,” she demands. I’ve never seen anything like it.
“Henry, the house won’t be safe,” I interject, playing peacekeeper.
“It’s all right, darling. I’ve got security coming. I just need to arrange it.” He holds up a hand in Yates’s direction and mollifies, “Just find this Jared person. I want this bastard caught.” He herds me into the street, swooped and protective, so I don’t even have time to say good-bye to Lydia, Javi, and Elisa, or thank you to Cash. He ushers me into the back of a car and we’re in the street headed downtown before I can think.
What could possibly be the connection between Caroline, Joan, and Jared? What happened to Mick, how does he fit into all of this? I trace back Evelyn’s relationship with Mick in my mind. Their meeting at the beach. His seemingly random disappearances. What is his connection to Caroline? I try to connect these dots, but pain pulses a quick beat behind my eyes.
Henry pats my hand the whole car ride, as though it’s a pet. I want to tell him to stop, but I can’t find the words. The sun hangs low in the sky, slung between buildings, orange and bright. Within minutes, we’re in the Lincoln Tunnel, speeding to safety. Henry the Hero. I check my phone to make sure it’s on. Waiting, waiting. As we speed through the tunnel, the side lights flickering past the window remind me of a searchlight, seeking out lost, drifting ships. Seeking, seeking something. I touch my finger to the glass.
CHAPTER 24
By the time we get to the house, evening has fallen, quiet and thick. The sky is blue-gray, clouds covering the stars, and in the country, so much emptier than twilight in the city. Henry lets us in and the air smells freshly laundered, clean and safe. The innocence of dryer sheets.