“She was dead before morning.”
Evelyn looked at her hands.
“I have spent thirty years knowing I had reasons.”
“Good reasons.”
“Real reasons.”
“And none of them changed what happened.”
Daniel’s voice was very soft.
“You did not kill your sister.”
“No.”
“But I left her alone after she asked.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“You were human.”
“So was she.”
Evelyn looked at him.
“When I found you yesterday and you told me to leave, all I could hear was her voice.”
Daniel understood.
“That’s why you stayed.”
“Yes.”
He reached across the table.
Stopped halfway.
Evelyn saw the hesitation.
Then placed her own hand in his.
Daniel’s fingers closed gently.
Warm.
Rough.
No urgency.
“Then thank you for not leaving me.”
Evelyn looked at their hands.
“You’re welcome.”
They drove separately toward Cedar Crossing.
Evelyn refused to put Daniel in the cargo area again.
He looked offended by the implication he had complained.
“You complained.”
“I observed.”
“You complained.”
Daniel sat in the passenger seat with his leg braced.
The highway rolled through red rock country.
For twenty minutes, they said nothing.
Then Daniel asked:
“What was James like?”
Evelyn smiled despite herself.
“Impossible.”
“That seems to be your type.”
She looked over.
Daniel raised both hands slightly.
“Too soon?”
“Possibly.”
“Sorry.”
Evelyn kept driving.
Then:
“He sang badly.”
“James?”
“Very.”
“He knew.”
“That never stopped him.”
“Did you?”
“Constantly.”
Daniel smiled.
“He talked about you more than he realized.”
Evelyn looked ahead.
“What did he say?”
“He said you could walk into a room where everyone was panicking and make them believe panic was embarrassing.”
She laughed.
“That sounds like me.”
“He also said you hated lilies.”
“I do.”
“Why?”
“They smell like funerals.”
Daniel nodded.
“No lilies.”
Evelyn glanced at him.
“For what?”
“Future reference.”
He looked out the window.
Evelyn felt something unexpectedly warm move through her.
The truck stop was crowded.
Good.
Semi-trucks.
Families.
Tourists.
Workers.
Security cameras above every entrance.
The reporter, a woman in her forties named Leah Benton, sat inside a diner booth near the window.
Daniel slid into the seat carefully.
Evelyn sat beside him.
Leah looked at Evelyn.
“You must be Mrs. Hart.”
“Evelyn.”
Leah nodded.
“I read your husband’s documents.”
Evelyn did not know how to respond to that.
“So did I.”
“Today.”
Leah’s expression softened.
“I’m sorry.”
Evelyn almost smiled at the familiar phrase.
“Thank you.”
Daniel handed over a sealed envelope.
“Everything is duplicated.”
Leah nodded.
“I have counsel reviewing.”
“And state investigators?”
“I made contact.”
Daniel’s shoulders lowered slightly.
For the first time since the highway, he seemed to breathe fully.
Then Evelyn saw the pickup.
Dark.
Across the parking lot.
Same shape.
Maybe same vehicle.
“Daniel.”
He followed her eyes.
His face changed.
“Vale.”
Leah turned.
“Where?”
Daniel immediately pulled out his burner phone.
Evelyn grabbed his wrist.
“No emergency call.”