She had to know. And that meantshe had to go there—right into the heart of her pain.
She closed her eyes, rolling ontoher back again and letting her head lie flat on the bed without the pillow. Itwas better this way. More like the way she needed to feel. She took a deepbreath, trying to ignore the way it tremored at the end, and counted it: one.Then another. Two. Three. Four.
Fear flared up inside Zoe, makingher panic, squeezing an unwanted whimper right from her throat. Her eyes flewopen on the unthreatening white ceiling, stained here and there with nicotineand flaking down in certain patches. No, she had to be strong. She could dothis. She forced her eyes closed and started again, a deep breath in. One.
Two.
Three.
Four, then five, then six, all theway to ten. She made it without trying to turn back again. It was now or never.She knew the island was there, waiting for her. It was always there.
Zoe kept her eyes closed, atfirst. She breathed deeply, inhaling the wonderful clean air of her secludedparadise. She felt the air mattress under her, not a solid bed anymore but acushioned surface holding her above the water, gently rocking with the current.It was calm and peaceful. Every now and then, a tropical bird called out fromthe trees. The sun beamed down on her with a reassuring warmth, soothing hercares away.
Zoe eased her eyes open, takingin the bright blue sky. A single cloud was visible, placed exactly in the rightposition to stop Zoe from having to squint. She could see easily. High above, abird wheeled, then dove toward the water in search of fish.
Zoe allowed her eyes to traildown after it, turning her head to the side to keep it in her field of vision.Now she was looking in the direction of the shore, her eyes on the water butwith the sand in her periphery. All she had to do was turn a little further andshe would see it.
Zoe didn’t. She sat up instead,keeping her gaze down close by, at the crystal-blue waters and the smalldisturbances her hands caused as she dipped into them. She pushed backwardthrough the small waves, propelling herself toward the shore. When the front ofthe air mattress hit sand, Zoe put her feet down, pushing herself up to standand drag her makeshift boat up out of the reach of the waves.
The sand shifted underfoot,soft and warm from the heat of the sun. It was pleasant enough that she wouldhave liked to bury her feet there for a while, let it warm her. But she had tomove on. She couldn’t stay here, looking back out at the sea, avoiding the onething she knew was behind her.
The one person.
A hammock stretched between twotrees by the water, shaded by the leafy fronds overhead, cooled by the oceanbreeze; a perfect resting point. Zoe made herself turn and look and see Shelleycradled inside it, lifting her hand in a silent wave. She was holding a coconutwith the top chopped off, a straw and a jaunty cocktail umbrella sticking outof the side. There was a paperback book open on her stomach, pushed flat tosave her page. Despite the warmth, Shelley was immaculate as ever, her blondehair knotted into a smooth bun at the back of her head, her lips shiny withpink lipstick. She lifted up a pair of black sunglasses and grinned as Zoewalked closer, showing off her matching eyeshadow.
“Hey, Z,” she said, soundingjust like she always had. “Did you miss me?”
“Yes,” Zoe said immediately,stopping right in front of Shelley. She dropped herself down into a beach chairthat was at exactly the right height for them to talk. A lump welled up in herthroat as she addressed the thing she had avoided telling anyone else for allthis time, strangling her words. “All the time. You don’t even know how much.”
“Yes, I do,” Shelley said. “Iknow.” She smiled then, soft and comforting without judgment or pity. Zoe hadto look away a moment.
“I’m working on this case,” Zoestarted.
“I know all about it,” Shelleytold her. “This whole pi thing. What you know, I know. Well, go on. Ask me, Z.”
Zoe shifted, shading her eyesas she looked out to sea. “I need your opinion,” she said. “Did we arrest theright guy? Or is the killer still out there?”
She didn’t emphasize the dangerinherent in the wrong answer. Shelley already knew. She had paid for it withher life once already.
“You already know the answer.”Shelley looked at her gravely for a long moment. “What did Dr. Applewhite tellyou? You’re relying too much on the numbers. On the numerical representation ofpi.”
Zoe remembered what Dr.Applewhite had said. Keep it simple. Stop overcomplicating things just becauseyou are able to see all of the layers.
The layers she could see werenot always visible to everyone else.
Zoe nodded slowly. “I alreadyhave the answer.”
“That’s what I said,” Shelleysaid, laughing lightly. The sound was caught on the gentle breeze, driftingaway from them like a soft cloud.
“Pitsis is not the killer,” Zoesaid, thinking out loud, words spilling out of her like water. “He sees pi justas the number that it is. It is an irrational number, and he wants it to berational. That’s all. A mathematical problem.”
“Not enough of an obsession todrive him to murder,” Shelley said, raising her coconut and taking a sip. “Justto drive him to drink.”
“The killer sees pi as arepresentation of more than just an irrational number,” Zoe went on. She was ona roll now. “For him, it’s something much more. Not just a number at all.”
“That’s right,” Shelley said.She picked the book up off her stomach, finding her page and propping it open. “Now,it’s not that I’m not pleased to see you, Z. But don’t you have something todo?”
“Yes,” Zoe told her. She tookone last fleeting look at the island, at Shelley in her hammock, and thenclosed her eyes. “I do.”
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
It was late, but Zoe couldn’t justgo to sleep and forget about the case. If the wrong person was behind bars,that meant that
