Page 72 of Never Alone
"You seem like a steady man. She'll need that. She's always needed that."
I kept my eyes on the wall behind him. There were eleven beige tiles between the corner and the door. I had counted them when I'd come in, and I was counting them again.
"I don't know what she was like at sixteen, Lieutenant. I came into her life at twenty-one. But I understand you had reason to step in for her then. Natalie makes bad decisions. She always has.
"I lived with her for twelve years. I know how she gets. I'm not trying to alarm you. I just think it's fair you go in with your eyes open."
I'd seen this move before. The calm explanation. The helpful insider. The favor of being told what kind of woman she really was. Come in.
I didn't answer.
He changed his face.
"You've had an impressive career. Lieutenant at thirty-four. Station 33 has a good reputation."
He said it easily—the way a man said things he had learned recently and wanted you to know he had learned. I let him finish.
"Thank you," I said. Flat.
He nodded and smiled a small, satisfied smile.
The monitor opened the door at the back of the lobby. "Mr. St. George?"
"Coming."
He turned to follow her, took two steps, and stopped halfway across the lobby, looking back at me over his shoulder. Easy. Casual.
"How's the house coming? The one over on Ashford Street?"
I held still.
"Drove past it the other day. Good bones. You have an eye for that."
He didn't wait for an answer. The door shut behind him.
I walked over to the chairs against the wall and sat down. Hands on my knees.
I counted. Eleven beige tiles. Three steps across the lobby. Half a second of recalculation.
I'd had fifteen minutes of him. She'd lived with him for twelve years.
I understood now why she had run.
He had been watching us. The house was just the part he wanted me to know about. I didn't know what else he had. I didn't know how long he'd been looking. I didn't know what to do about any of it.
I breathed in through my nose, held it, let it out. I couldn't call Tessa—not with the visitation still going on, not with Nicholas in the building. I had four hours. I sat in the chair. Same hands. Same face.
Nothing had happened. Everything had happened.
The door at the back of the lobby opened. Noah came through.
He saw me and walked. Then half-walked, half-ran. He came to the chair where I was sitting and put his hand in mine.
He didn't say anything. He just held on.
His fingers were tight. The kind of tight a kid's fingers got when they'd decided on the walk down the hallway to make sure I felt them.
I closed my hand around his.
