Chapter 38

“You and Mr. Camper were in a relationship, Miss Harwood?” Officer Martinez asks, leaning across the coffee table. She looks formidable, the type of woman I hope my daughter becomes. When she asked if she could speak to us, I couldn’t think of a way to make her go away.

Mom glances at me and smiles, almost like we’re in on some secret joke. Their relationship was my biggest fear before. Now, it’s just one more angle to the insanity.

“Is something… funny, Miss Benson?”

“It’s Mrs. Wood,” Mom says, sitting up, seeming like the woman she was before Dad died. That must’ve been while she was still living her own narrative, a happily married woman. It was always part of her, even if it went away. “And I don’t see how this is appropriate. What does it have to do with anything?”

“It’s a simple question, Mrs. Benson.”

“I don’t understand the connection to Michael either,” I say, leaning forward, a confused look on my face.

“You called him the day you went missing,” Martinez says, narrowing her eyes at me.

“I thought he could help. He was in the military. I was scared of calling the cops. The note said no cops, and then they took me.” I swallow, thinking of what I did, pulling that trigger, and thinking I’d do it again. I don’t know what that says about me. “They locked us up.” Well, somebody did. “They humiliated us.” That was Michael, but I liked it. Maybe it’s not humiliation if it feels good. “They terrified us.” At the beginning, he did, my man, my savage. “Now you want us to go over and over and over it.”

Martinez sits back, frowning, shaking her head. “No, Miss Benson. I didn’t mean… Of course not.”

“Do you know where they kept us, Officer Marti ez?” Mom snaps. “In a cell. No lights. No—”

“I’ve seen the photos,” Ramirez says, quickly standing up. “I didn’t mean to stir any emotions.”

I step forward and narrow my eyes. She’s gone all shifty. “You’re not supposed to be here, are you?” I say. “Your bosses. They don’t know you’re here.”

She flashes a dark look at me.

“Of course she’s not,” Mom says, stepping beside me. “After all we’ve been through…”

“I’m just trying to do the right thing,” Martinez says. “There’s something about that Michael Rod Camper. I’ve got a sixth sense about these things.”

“What, you think he’s a bad, bad man?” I say, rolling my eyes. “He’s a flashy stock trader. I was glad when my mom dumped his ass.”

“And I was glad to get rid of him.”

Martinez nods. “I’ll see myself out.”

Mom and I keep staring at her until she’s gone. Then I say, “Sorry, Michael. Jeez, I didn’t mean that.”

Mom nudges me playfully, still seeming like her old self before Dad got on that plane. Maybe it was partly an act, but she seems younger, full of life. “I think he’ll forgive us.

That was quite thrilling. Maybe that’s how we look on the bright side of all this. We’ve had a good thrill.”

Mom seems manic, but not in a desperate way. She seems weirdly hopeful. Maybe it’s the trauma and the lack of sleep. Maybe it’s the antidepressant I saw her take earlier. Or perhaps it’s just hope. Hope for the future. Hope for the daughter she thought of in the dark. Hope for Hope.

“Yeah, Mom,” I say. “That’s one way to look at it.” It’s a bland statement, but I don’t want to shatter this mood. Luckily, she’s not listening, humming as she walks to the window.

My phone vibrates. Notmyphone, the burner Michael gave me.Watch this video. There’s a link. I click it. A regular-looking man walks awkwardly between two FBI agents, shouting at the sky. He’s the answer, he says. No, The Answer. He was “Luka,” then. If he’s been arrested, does that mean it’s over? Does that mean we can live happily ever after?

Or maybe happily ever after is an impossible concept. It’s never going to beperfect. People will always have to make sacrifices, but when I saw Michael, I knew we were destined to have something special. Maybe we wouldn’t get it. Perhaps life or Mom would get in the way, but the connection was there. We’ll fight. We’ll never stop trying. Together.

Michael sends me another text.I’ll be with you when the sun sets. I’m making arrangements. This is my last night. Put this phone in the box I gave you.

A shiver runs down my body when I think about Michaek leaving me. He says it will only be for a couple of weeks. Even that close, us leaving at the same time as Michael disappearing might make Martinez suspicious, but she’ll have other cases. The world will forget us.

I don’t want him to go. Would it be wrong to ask Mom to stay somewhere else tonight? No, what am I thinking? I’m not a good daughter sometimes, but I want Michael to myself. After everything, maybe it’s silly how nervous it still makes me—my man, with his manhood so hard and thick.

I bite down. How long can we wait?