Elspeth started to cry more. I put my hand on her shoulder. “You can stay here if you want,” I said. “Call in sick tomorrow.”
“I can’t,” she said. “I mean…thank you. But I have to act, like…normal. He’s watching. He’s got…friends.” Her speech was starting to slur. She put her head down on the table. Rested it on her folded arms like a kid at naptime.
“If this makes you feel any better,” I said, “Dylan definitely has more enemies than friends.”
Elspeth said nothing. Her eyes were closed. I started to repeat myself, but Spike shook his head. “She’s toast,” he said.
Elspeth was snoring softly. She sounded like Rosie.
“Looks like she is staying here,” Spike said. “Whether she wants to or not.”
I nodded. “I’m going to turn down the bed in the guest room.”
“Make sure there’s a trash can next to it,” Spike said.
“I will.” I stood up. I was a little unsteady on my feet, but otherwise I felt okay. I poured three glasses of tap water—one for me, one for Spike, and one for next to Elspeth’s bed, along with a bottle of Advil, should she need it.
Returning to the table, I found myself detouring to the living room window, pushing aside the draperies, and searching the streets for Dylan or his “friends.” Anyone connected with him who might have noticed a young woman dressed completely in white and silver, talking on the phone in front of my apartment, seemingly on the verge of a panic attack. I didn’t see anyone. The hairs on the back of my neck said otherwise.
“Hey, Sunny?” Spike said.
“Yeah?”
“You want me to stay, too? I can take the couch.”
“Would you mind?”
“Of course not.”
I smiled. There was no one in this world who understood me as well as Spike did.
Twenty-Two
When I woke up at seven-thirty, Spike was still asleep on the couch. Elspeth was in the kitchen, wearing the yoga pants and T-shirt I’d lent her to sleep in during her tiny window of being awake. They were maybe a size or two too big, but she looked cute and comfortable in them—and shockingly fresh-faced for someone who’d polished off an entire bottle of wine before bedtime. That was twenty-two, I supposed.
The T-shirt was from Richie’s old saloon. I hadn’t really looked at the shirt when I’d given it to Elspeth, and now it felt like the universe was snapping its fingers in front of my face, telling me to pay attention. Richie’s saloon was no more. He’d sold it to a big corporation, which had turned it into one of those soulless birthday-party places for kids, with overpriced food, rooms full of video games, and carefully measured drinks for the parents. Richie was in Jersey, waiting for me to decide ifI wanted to change my entire life, too. He wouldn’t wait forever. Time was marching on. And as much as I wanted to step on the hem of its cloak and trip it, I was powerless.
Elspeth had already made a pot of coffee and she was drinking a cup. “I hope you don’t mind that I helped myself,” she said. Her eyes were wide and apologetic and slightly confused. I must have been looking at her funny.
“Of course not,” I said. “Sorry. I’m just a little…um…distracted.”
“I get it,” she said. “Listen, thanks for letting me stay here last night. I’ll be out of your hair soon.”
“You can stay as long as you like.”
“I have to get home to change for work.”
“You can borrow some of my clothes.”
She looked at me. “Do you have anything in white wool? I have to match the color scheme and they keep it so cold in there, even in the winter.”
“I think I do,” I said.
I went back into my bedroom and looked through my closet. I pulled out a white Armani suit I’d bought on a whim while visiting L.A. with Jesse Stone. It had been a business trip—we were both investigating the same case—but we’d managed to squeeze in quite a bit of pleasure. Coincidentally, we’d hooked up in a boutique dressing room at one point—something I’d never even considered doing before that trip (or, come to think of it, after). But that hadn’t been when I’d bought the Armani. I shut my eyes and pushed the memories out of my mind. Jesse and I were no more—and we’d been no more for quite a while.It was just like my brain to ambush me like this, broadcasting the most inappropriate images at the most inappropriate times.
I focused on the suit. It looked like it might fit Elspeth, if she buttoned the jacket and maybe wore a belt. I brought it out to her, along with a white satin Dolce & Gabbana blouse I’d purchased right here in Boston, no memories attached. I walked into the kitchen and held them up.
Her eyes lit up. “Are you sure I can wear these?”
