Page 82 of Faultlines

The words feel hollow, even to me.

Sloane: That’s not reassuring.

He seems to enjoy working on the set build so I guess she comes up in conversation.

Lucy: That seems normal.

Sloane: Does it?

Lucy: Yes.

Sloane: Counterpoint—Ethan once spent fifteen minutes explaining why the school needed a better parking lot design.

That’s because he’s an architect.

Sloane: Fine.

Sloane: Has he talked to you much about the conference?

No. And I didn’t really hear from him while he was there.

Lucy: That seems normal. Conferences are busy.

Sloane: If I spent an entire weekend away, I would tell everyone every detail of my trip.

Lucy: That’s because you blast everything on Juniper Ridge social media.

Sloane: Fair.

Sloane: Also, I would like everyone to know that I looked up the restaurant that was listed on that receipt.

What did you find out about the restaurant?

Sloane: It isn’t anywhere near the convention center.

Lucy: How far away is it?

Sloane: About thirty minutes. Also, according to the conference website, a formal dinner for conference attendees occurred Saturday night at the hotel. Why would he be at a restaurant across town?

All amusement drains out of me.

CHAPTER THIRTY

SURFACE EVIDENCE

Ethan

I kill the engine and sit in the parking lot longer than I should. Reid’s words echo through my head. You’re playing with fire, Ethan.

I grip the handle of my laptop bag before forcing myself out of the truck. The worn leather is already warm in my hand by the time I reach the front doors.

The office hums with its usual morning rhythm. Phones ring. Someone laughs down the hall. A printer spits out page after page. Normally, the familiar chaos settles me. Bennett-Cross has felt like a second home for years.

Today, I can’t shake the feeling that Reid was wrong to interfere. Or that he was right.

“Morning, Mr. Bennett,” Hattie greets me as I pass her desk, her voice a cheerful counterpoint to how I’m feeling.

“Hattie.”