of delight. “Really?”
This exchange is followed by a promise that a check for your evening’s work will be ready for you the next time you come to the office.
You are brimming with questions, but you do not allow yourself to release them.
Excellent, Jessica.
You are eased off the phone.
Supplies are gathered: A laptop. A pen and a fresh legal pad. A cup of peppermint tea, to engender alertness and warm the hands and throat.
The blueprint for your encounter with Thomas must be quickly drawn. Not a single detail can be left to chance.
There can be no missed connection this time.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-THREE
Friday, December 14
Leo jumps on me as soon as I unlock my door, his little paws barely reaching my knees. He hasn’t been out since I left to do makeup on Reyna and Tiffani. I set down my case and grab my wool scarf, then clip on his leash.
I need this walk as much as he does right now.
Leo tugs me down the three flights of stairs and through the building’s front door. Even though I’m only going to be gone for a few minutes, I yank it hard to make sure the sometimes-sticky lock engages.
While Leo relieves himself on a fire hydrant, I wrap the scarf around my neck and check my phone. Two missed texts. The first is from my theater friend Annabelle: Miss you girl, call me!
The second is from an unfamiliar number: Hey, just wanted you to know Marilyn is doing okay. Her daughter said she was released from the hospital a few hours ago. Hope you got to your work assignment on time. At the end, he added a smiling emoji.
Thanks for the update, that’s good news! I type back.
As I continue to walk, I reach my free hand around to rub the back of my neck, trying to ease the knots. Even the promise of a possible new job for my dad doesn’t offset the agitation I’m feeling.
I want to talk to someone about everything that is going on. But I can’t unburden myself to my father and mother, and not just because of Dr. Shields’s rule of secrecy.
I look at my phone again.
It’s not quite nine P.M.
Noah is out of town until Sunday. I could call Annabelle or Lizzie and try to meet up with them. Their happy banter would be a diversion, but right now it doesn’t feel like a welcome one.
I turn a corner and pass a restaurant with a string of white holiday lights dangling around windows. On the doorway of the shop next door is a wreath.
My stomach rumbles and I realize I haven’t eaten since lunch.
A group comes toward me, led by a guy in a floppy Santa hat. He’s walking backward, singing “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” loudly and mixing up the lyrics while his friends laugh.
I step to one side to let them pass, feeling as if I’m disappearing into the shadows in my all-black work outfit.
A year ago, I was also part of a happy, loud group. We sat around after rehearsals on Friday nights, and Gene ordered in Chinese food for everyone. Sometimes Gene’s wife would stop by with homemade brownies or cookies. In a way, it felt like a family.
I didn’t realize how much I miss it.
I’m alone tonight, but I’m used to that. It’s just that I don’t often feel lonely.
The last time I googled Gene, I saw his wife had just had a baby girl. My search turned up a picture of the three of them together at the opening of one of his shows, the wife smiling down at the infant in her arms. They looked happy.
I think about the two texts from Katrina, the ones I haven’t answered.
A question has been forming in my mind, despite my efforts to move on from that period in my life. As I think about Gene’s innocent wife, it’s like I can hear Dr. Shields asking it:
Is it ethical to destroy one blameless woman’s life if it means there’s a chance of protecting other women from future harm?
I need an escape from my thoughts. If I did drugs, now is when I’d be reaching for a joint. But I don’t lose control that way. There’s another outlet I crave when the pressure gets to be too much.
Noah thinks I’m the kind of girl you cook for and only kiss on the first date. But that’s not who I am anymore, ever since that evening with Gene French. Maybe because I trusted him so much, now it’s