‘There weren’t any traces of blood found in the kitchen.’
I shake my head, confused and bewildered. My head still feels foggy, patches of memory are blank. I was so sure I’d managed to cut his arm. I can still remember the way the knife felt slicing through his jacket and then through the flesh, like it was made of warm butter. Surely there was blood?
‘We’ve been trying to trace the masks – thanks for the drawings by the way – but so far no luck. A lot of those masks are sold by companies in China via eBay and Amazon, so it’s hard, but we’re trying.’
The masked faces flash in front of me. It keeps happening. I’ll be in the middle of a conversation when BOOM, one of the masks appears in my mind’s eye. Each time, though, new things are being revealed. I just wish I could see the whole picture now. I know I’m missing something vital and Nate seems to be probing to find that missing piece. What does he know that I don’t?
‘OK . . . one more thing,’ Nate says. ‘When you went upstairs with the gun and entered June’s bedroom, can you tell me in more detail what you saw? Have you managed to remember anything else?’
The breath leaves my body in a whoosh. I reach for my glass of water and nearly knock it over.
‘I’m sorry,’ Nate says quietly. ‘I have to ask.’
‘No, no,’ I say, gripping the glass as I’m assaulted by the memories. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just . . . it’s hard to remember. It was so fast. Everything’s a blur.’
June’s face flashes in front of me. The man’s too. His gun coming up. Why didn’t I manage to shoot him?
‘It’s my fault, isn’t it?’ I say suddenly.
‘No,’ Nate says, and he sets his notepad down and reaches across the table. Without thinking, I reach forwards too and put my hands in his. He squeezes tight.
‘Ava, this is not your fault at all. And I promise you I’ll find the people who did this. They’re not going to get away with it.’
My face crumples and I bow my head again, so grateful for the words even if I don’t fully believe him. He strokes the top of my hands with his thumbs and out of nowhere I feel a shudder of desire travel up my spine. It’s so completely out of the blue and disturbing that I find myself leaping to my feet.
‘I need to get back to the hospital,’ I stammer, throwing my bag over my shoulder and turning for the door.
How can I be feeling desire at a time like this? What is wrong with me?
Nate gives me a fleeting smile and stands slowly from the table. ‘Let me see you out,’ he says and, with his hand on my back, he ushers me out of the room and towards the exit. That hand, that same imprint. Just one touch. It’s all it took the last time and I find myself slowing my pace, leaning back into his hand, feeling it like a metal brace giving me strength and support.
When he says goodbye there’s an awkward moment where we stare at each other and it looks like he wants to say something but before he can, I turn and rush off.
I hurry over to the Tesla. Robert’s in the driver’s seat, waiting for me.
‘Everything OK?’ he asks me, as I gingerly get in beside him.
I hesitate, feeling the imprint of Nate’s hand like a branding iron on my back. ‘Yes. They . . . they found my jewelry.’
Robert turns to me. ‘They found it? Where?’
‘He wouldn’t say.’
Robert frowns. ‘What do you mean, he wouldn’t say? Why not?’
I shake my head. ‘I don’t know. Something about it being an ongoing investigation.’
‘Why wasn’t I allowed to come in with you?’ Robert asks, narrowing his eyes at me.
I think about Nate’s questions about Robert putting out the trash and failing to set the alarm. What was he getting at? Does he think Robert is somehow involved? ‘He wanted to ask me some more questions about my statement,’ I say. ‘Verify something.’
Robert looks annoyed. He runs a hand over his face, which looks almost as rumpled as his shirt. The bruise from where he was hit is turning a vivid, grotesque puce color. How can he be in on it? It’s a ridiculous thought. Look at what the men did to him. I’m being paranoid. All the stress and anxiety are taking a toll and God knows what all the drugs I’m on are doing to my mind.
‘So, if they’ve found the jewelry does that mean they’ve got a suspect?’ Robert asks, and I wonder at the forced casualness of his tone. It’s as if Nate’s laid little maggots of suspicion in my brain and they’re starting to burrow. ‘Are they going to arrest anyone?’
I shake my head, studying him. ‘I don’t know,’ I say.
Robert purses his lips. ‘Did he say anything useful?’ he asks irritably. I shake off the horrible thoughts popping into my head. He’s as tired and stressed as me, probably more tired as he’s been sleeping in a chair by June’s bed for the last three nights.
‘No,’ I admit. ‘But he promised me he’d find the people who did this to us, to June . . .’
Robert huffs in a way that reminds me strangely of Hannah, and then puts the car in drive and tears out the parking lot.
Chapter 16
The fingerprint ink on the kitchen counters won’t come off. I’m scrubbing it with a scouring pad, understanding how Lady Macbeth felt with her damned spot, when Robert walks in.
‘What are you doing?’ he says, grabbing the scouring pad out of my hands. ‘You don’t need to do that.’
‘It’s stained the counter,’ I tell him.
‘It doesn’t matter, Ava,’ he says, throwing the scourer onto the side and taking both my hands in his.
‘Laurie said she’d organize cleaners.’
‘I told her not to,’ Robert admits.
‘Why?’
‘I don’t want any more strangers
