near shut. More bruises ran down her perfect cheekbone to her jaw on that side, and violet handprints ringed her neck. Her lips were split at one corner, crusted in blood. Looking at these pictures changed the context of the gun somehow.
She stared at the camera with her slits for eyes, her face expressionless. The other five were much the same, showing that whoever had gotten to her hadn’t stopped with the face. There was a profile shot and then body shots. Her abdomen and ribs bloomed with navy and purple bruises, dark as pansies.
I flipped the top Polaroid over and found writing on the back. Just two letters: NE
I flipped them all. Each had two or three letters on the back, and when I dealt them out in order, they spelled words in all capitals.
NEVER FORGET.
I wasn’t sure if these pictures or the letter said more about her mysterious marriage. Maybe both. Maybe neither. She’d been surprised by how much I loved Maddy. Had she and Luca had a bad experience with steps? Or this might be the work of Luca’s father.
He’s not a good person, Luca had said. I don’t talk about him. Like, ever.
It was hard to tell Roux’s age in these pictures, she was so badly beaten. How long ago had this happened? Was this the thing she was running from? If so, I would have to move forward very carefully. Because of Luca. What would a man who could do this to a woman, even one as duplicitous as Roux, do to a teenage boy? What had he done already?
I still hoped an open warrant, not a man, had sent her hurtling down highways until she landed with Tig Simms. But now a man seemed much more likely. Worse, it could be both. If I sent her to jail, would Luca be returned to the man who’d done this?
Luca didn’t seem like a boy who’d been beaten, but wasn’t that how domestic abuse worked? Everyone hid it. I only knew the face that Luca showed me. Maddy might know more, though.
I checked my watch. I was nearly out of time. I started putting everything back, but on impulse I pocketed one of the Polaroids. The first one, with NE written on the back. It was Roux facing the camera, recognizable even through the bruising. A record of her face could come in handy, and I wasn’t likely to get another. She was camera-shy, Tig had said. His own picture of her was distant and blurry. I didn’t take it only to be practical, though. Part of me wanted a record of this, proof that she was vulnerable. Proof that she didn’t always win her games. I put everything else back exactly as I’d found it.
I was at the front door, ready to go home, when I realized what I’d almost done. We were going diving tomorrow. Roux would bring her gear. I ran back to the master, stopping by the bathroom for a wad of toilet paper. I went to the closet and fished out the condom. It was right beside her gear bag.
Gagging, I hurried back to the bed and flung it under. Then I flushed the toilet paper and got out of there.
As soon as I was home, I slipped my shoes off, not wanting the kids to hear me coming through the front door. They weren’t in the keeping room though. They must have decided to watch the video downstairs, taking Oliver with them. He would be asleep by now. I went to the guest bathroom and slipped Luca’s keys back into his jeans, then dropped by the laundry room to change my top. I wanted a shower, but there was no time. I headed for the basement.
The door was closed, a minor no-no, but I eased it open and listened. The cheery sounds of the instructional video drifted up the stairs. The kids had the volume up to eleven; they wouldn’t have noticed if I had tap-danced in. I’d seen the DVD approximately seven thousand times, so I knew that it was nearly over. I’d come home just in time.
I headed down to check on the baby.
I was still in my bare feet, quiet against the wooden stairs. I could see the kids on the sofa. Oliver flopped in his bounce chair, sleeping. Luca sat on the end of the couch closer to the stairs, his back to me, facing the TV screen where a pretty girl in a wet suit