Page 115 of Things We Do in the Dark
“Why?” Of all the things she imagined him saying, him thinking her death was his fault had never crossed her mind. “The fire had nothing to do with you.”
“It would have been nice if you told me that,” he says. “I was the one who ID’d your body that night.”
She nearly chokes. “What? How?”
“I came back,” Drew says. “After we talked. You went inside, I drove away. And then I came back. There were fire trucks, police. They were loading your dead body onto an ambulance, and I looked under the tarp.”
“Oh God.” Paris stares at him. “Oh, Drew.”
“And so before we get into anything, and wearegoing to get into it,” he says, raising an eyebrow, “I want to start with an apology.”
“I’m sorry,” she says.
“Not you. Me.” Drew’s plate is empty, and he pushes it to the side. “I owe you an apology for the things I said to you that night. There hasn’t been a day I haven’t thought about it. All I ever wanted was to rewind and go back to those last moments in the car with you and take back everything I said. I’m sorry. For judging you when it wasn’t my place. For making you feel like shit. Do you forgive me?”
Paris can see from his face that he means every word. She swallows, and then nods. “How… how was the wedding?”
“I never got married,” Drew says. “And don’t try and change the subject. A girl died, Joey. You have some explaining to do.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
She tells him about Mae, and Drew doesn’t say a word the entire time she’s speaking. He’d always been a good listener. The only time he shows any kind of reaction is when she tells him that Chaz, the bouncer from the Cherry he met that night, was the one who got her the Paris Aquino ID. Drew’s face does a thing, but she doesn’t know what it means.
“I believe you,” he says when she finishes. “It’s the conclusion I came to when I fell down this rabbit hole. I figured out it was probably Vinny Tranh who killed her. What I couldn’t understand was why you set the fire. You could have just called the police.”
“And then what?” Paris asks. “The police start looking for Vinny? What if he found me before they found him? Mae hid the drugs and cash in my apartment, in a spot nobody was supposed to know about. What if Vinny thought me and Mae were in on it together?” She looks away. “I had the cash. I saw a way out. A chance at a new life. I took it. Honestly, I didn’t think anyone would miss me.”
“Not even me?” Drew asks.
“Especially not you.”
A short silence.
“How much cash was it?”
“A hundred grand. Combined with my savings, I had enough to get where I was going.”
“And where did you go?”
“Everywhere, but nowhere special.”
“And you settled in Seattle?”
“I like it here.” She frowns. “Why does it feel like you’re interrogating me?”
“Because I am. I’m trying to make sense of it, why people around you tend to end up dead.” Drew’s voice hardens. “Think about it from my perspective. Charles Baxter. Mae Ocampo. Jimmy fucking Peralta. What’s the common denominator?You. And you’ve already proven you have the incredible capacity to lie. Your entire life now is a lie. Every one of those people died prematurely from exsanguination. That means—”
“I fucking know what ‘exsanguination’ means,” Paris snaps. “I probably knew that word before you did. And don’t come at me with your Occam’s razor bullshit. Life is complicated, Drew. And in case you didn’t notice, I’m not a girl anymore, and you’re not allowed to lecture me. Thank you, by the way, for reminding me of how self-righteous you can be. It’s probably your only flaw, but you might remember it’s the reason things didn’t go so well the last time we spoke.”
Drew sighs and puts a hand up. “Okay, look, it’s been a long few days—”
“I’m not finished.”
Paris stands up, puts their plates in the sink, and leans against the counter, trying to stay calm. She thinks carefully about what she wants to say to him now, because this may be the only opportunity she has to say it before she throws him out.
“You always came across as this self-aware, sensitive guy who was willing to listen,” she says. “And I know you’ve apologized, but even your apology comes with an agenda. Telling me you’re sorry is just your way of manipulating me into letting my guard down, so that I’ll talk to you. But the truth is, you were the person who judged me more than anyone else ever did. My mother never had expectations for me. She thought I was nothing, and that was an easy standard to meet. But you? You had all these hopes for what you thought I could be, which were really just expectations disguised as optimism.”
She looks down at him, her breath coming fast.
