Why had she never spoken to me about it? Why had I never thought to ask? Why had I never noticed? When did I stopseeingmy wife?
“Do you have any idea where she could be?” I asked, shame coating my tongue.
He fell silent.
“You know, don’t you?” I demanded, already knowing the answer.
He knew, and it felt like a betrayal. Like Barrett didn’t trust me the way she trustedhim.
“She didn’t call me,” Sasha explained. “I swear it, Flynn. But I think I have an idea of where she is.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
Sasha paused and then said slowly, “I think she’s at his house in Vermont. Where he…kept her.”
“Why would she be there?”
“Because I bought it years ago. I never go there, but she does.”
“That sounds an awful lot like you bought my wife a house.”
“I suppose you could see it that way.”
“Why don’t you ever go there?”
“I have no need to.”
“Then why do you own it?”
“Flynn,” he began.
We rarely called one another by our first names. Only in moments of extreme importance.
“It’s not what you think,” he insisted. “I did not buy her a house.”
“Is this one of those Sasha and Barrett things that I’ll never understand? That I’m not privy to?”
“Give her a chance to explain.”
“She should’ve told me about it. About the house.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why should she have told you about it? So you could read more into it than what’s really there? She knows how much it hurts you to be reminded of him and what he took from you. Took from you both. She didn’t want to burden you with it.”
Dolinsky was always a sore subject. He was an abscess. Still, after all this time.
“Does Quinn know? About the house?”
“No. She doesn’t know.”
Secrets. Barrett kept them from me. Sasha kept them from Quinn.
I rose slowly from my desk. “What’s the address?”
“I’ll text it to you.”
