Page 66 of You Know Why

“And did you surprise her, Andrew? Was Chloe having an affair? Did you arrive home early and see her with someone, and murder her in a fit of anger?”

He leaned forward, intense and furious. “If I caught Chloe with someone, I’d murder them, not her.”

Aaron jumped in. “Okay, we’re through here. No more without formal charges, Theresa. You’re fishing, and you’re upsetting my client.”

“Because your client’s wife is lying in the refrigerator downstairs.”

Silence, then. The outburst was too much, and they all knew it.

Detective Lee regained her composure. “Will you agree to a polygraph?”

Aaron looked at Andrew, who nodded.

Theresa looked surprised, but covered it with a gruff “Good. When are you supposed to deploy? This may cause issues with you leaving.”

He mumbled the answer into his arms. “I don’t. I’m not leaving.”

“What do you mean?”

A deep, shuddering breath, and he lifted his head.

“I separated. I’m out of the Air Force. I never wanted that life, everyone knows it, and I have been working for a year to wrap up my service and come home for good. I just wanted to live here and raise a family. It was a surprise for Chloe. My Christmas present to her. I couldn’t wait to tell her that I didn’t have to redeploy, that I got to stay through the holidays, and then forever. That’s it.” He sniffed, hard. “And now it’s all gone.”

Part Three

At the end of my life, with just one breath left, if you come, I’ll sit up and sing.

—Rumi

December 16

Wakey Wakey

Brooklyn

I swim into a sea of light. My eyes feel like they’re glued shut, and I have a bad, bad headache. I touch my forehead, willing it away, and feel tension pulling on my arm. There is something—a bandage? Something in my mouth, too, the back of my throat. I swallow and choke, gagging. I can’t breathe. What is happening? Waves of panic rise. Shouting, then beeping, then a hiss, then nothing.

I wake again. It feels like it’s been years since my eyes opened. My throat hurts. I lean forward. Maybe if I sit up—

“Whoa whoa whoa, stop. Gently. Move gently.”

I’m dreaming. Right? But are you supposed to hurt when you dream? I’m being held down, and I want to move. Roses. I smell roses. Maybe . . . I’m not dreaming? The light is so bright, and the figure next to me is so familiar, but I don’t recognize her at all.

“Hi there. Look who’s awake again.”

I know this voice. It takes a few seconds for my brain to catch up. Familiar, female, favorite person, sister. “Mm—Margot?”

My voice sounds weird, rusty, like it hasn’t been used in a very long time. Margot bursts into tears. “Oh, thank God. Brooklyn, you scared the shit out of me. I didn’t know if you would remember me.”

The lights are so bright. It smells so strange. “Where am I?”

“You’re in the hospital. Vanderbilt. You were hit by a car. Banged your head on the sidewalk—you have forty staples and a severe concussion. You’ve been in and out of consciousness for the past several days, and then you decided to have a minor heart attack. Don’t worry, you’re okay now. They shaved the spot behind your ear, but your hair will grow back. Do you remember what happened?”

Accident. Hospital. Hair. Remember. Do I? “Uh . . .”

“God, I’m sorry, I’m prattling on, you probably can’t even fathom all of this. Oh, Brooklyn. I am so relieved.”

Fragments. I hurt, all over, not just my head. Something feels wrong. So wrong. My chest hurts. And the roses . . . perfume? Mom’s perfume.