“I’ll do it. Anything else?”

“If I had to guess, they have a personal connection. A friendship… maybe something more.”

“That’s interesting, given that this girl seems to have a shortage of friends.”

“Interesting and problematic. Last thing we need is a doctor who’ll protect her.”

“You think he will?”

She taps her fingers against the arm of the chair, a slow rhythm that only serves to deepen her agitation. “Not necessarily. My mind’s jumping ahead a bit.” She watches him toss his coffee into the trash. “You heading out?”

“Got to run downtown. There’s a lead on the Downover case I’m going to follow up on. Then I’ll be back.”

“Call me on your way back. Depending on the time, I may get you to pick me up something to eat.”

“Thought Sage had that recital tonight.”

“She does. But there’s no way I’ll make it. Not with all this.” She gestures to the pile on her desk. Matt will take pictures, video her solo with his phone. She’ll get sporadic texts throughout the night, enough to make her feel included, but not so much to reach the point of guilt. They “understand.” A horrible word that ranks right up there next to “I’m not mad at you, I’m disappointed.” They never should have had another child. The added guilt has only pushed her deeper into the hole of work-related depression. She should be at home. She should be a mother to her children. She should cook dinner and know about their classes, and help with homework, and not be wearing her ass out chasing down psychotic prom queens like Deanna Madden.

She smiles when David waves good-bye. Opens up her right-side drawer and pulls out her headphones. Plugs them in and hits the Play button on her phone. Inhales a deep breath and flips open the folder, shaking out the images, the initial strands of music starting as she flips over the first photo and looks down at Jeremy Pacer’s battered and broken face.

CHAPTER 25

Present

I USED TO worship this window; it was my altar to the outside world. Now, with its cardboard barrier gone, I can still feel its pull. I stand before it, the window fully raised, the fresh flow of outside air blowing over my skin and carrying with it the scents of life. Of garbage, fried food, car exhaust. I close my eyes and drink them in, a smile on my face. I need to lock it. Paint it shut again. Cardboard it up again, or just paint the glass. I’ll do it soon. But not yet.

From behind me, I hear the chime of my phone, Derek’s ringtone. I frown, my eyes still closed. It’s not Wednesday at three o’clock. Why is he calling me? I move forward and snag the phone, returning to the window and holding it to my ear. “Hey.”

“Deanna, I just got a call from the Tulsa Police Department.”

Shit. I feel the twist of guilt that I used to get right before my father would ground me. I swallow. “And?”

“What did you do?”

I look out the window, the night falling over the skyline, the resulting effect one that hid imperfections and painted the scene in one of rosy Instagram perfection. “Do they have anything on me?”

“Answer the question, Deanna.”

I hang up the phone and bend over, resting my hands on the sill and hanging my head out the window. The wind blew as if in response, blowing my hair in gentle brushes against my face.

“What did you do?” Such an accusatory tone, completely devoid of trust or positive expectation.

But it was a great question. What did I do? And why can’t I remember it? I pull out my phone and call Jeremy again. This time, there is no ring, his voice mail picking straight up. I hang up and feel sick.

CHAPTER 26

Past

IT TOOK TWO days for me to get over myself and forgive Jeremy. Unfortunately for me, he was in the right. And I didn’t wear humility very well. At all.

He had every right to ask me questions.

Every right to invite me to his sister’s.

Every right to want a normal girlfriend.

Every right to not be locked out of my apartment.

Every right for an explanation when I refused him entry.

I, on the other hand… didn’t have many points in my favor. I’d been wrong in how I handled it. How I handled him. I needed to share more, speak more. I needed to open up a bit and let him further in. I needed to be able to have a conversation with him without slamming my head into the tile and giving myself a concussion.

“How would you handle it if Jeremy broke up with you? Ended your relationship?”

It’d been a stupid question on Dr. Derek’s part, but it was a question that hadn’t left my mind since. How would I handle it? My first instinct was to shrug off the question. Like I did with Derek. It isn’t going to happen so it doesn’t matter. But… what if?

What if he broke up with me? Would I go back to my life? Keep the door shut? Restrict my human contact to the digital variety? How much of my sanity lay in my ability to touch someone? Be held? Be kissed and caressed and loved? Jeremy was my bodyguard, the person who could escort me out into the world and whom I knew would keep me from hurting someone. He was my security blanket, the person without whom I could have never stepped out into that hall. He, literally, handed me the keys to freedom that first day. And he’d held my hand ever since.

What if he left? Would I survive? Would my madness stay in check? What about my heart? How would I react? Would I retreat into a sniffling ball of patheticness? Or would I lash out, angry and vindictive and red with rage?

A hundred different combinations of reactions. No wonder Derek had pushed the horrific question upon me.

A knock sounded, hard and firm. I rose from the bed and walked to the door. Opened it and raised my chin. Looked into Jeremy’s eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

CHAPTER 27

Past

A WOMAN APOLOGIZING is a rare thing. Deanna apologizing is a rarity that had only happened once before. Jeremy blinked and tried to form a response, her delivery hanging between them from his outstretched hand.

“For…?” It wasn’t a test. In that unexpected moment he couldn’t think of what she was apologizing for. It didn’t help that all coherent mind processes stopped when she stood before him in panties and a sheer tank top.

“For being a bitch. For not letting you in. For shutting you out. For not explaining.” She lifted a shoulder and dropped it, a half shrug, as if it was an obvious answer. Which, now that she’d verbalized it, it kind of was.

“Oh.” He lifted his free hand and scratched at the back of his neck. Let the hand containing the package drop to his side. “So… I can come in?”

“Of course.” She stepped back and gestured him in. When he stepped inside, he noticed her tennis shoes, kicked off and lying next to her bed.