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“Sure.” Why not? I’ve been on a roll with shitting up my life lately. There isn’t much anyone could advise that could make it worse.
“Let it go,” he says coldly.
“What?”
“It was a decade ago. It won’t be easy, but you’re better off just letting it go.” He pauses, clasping his hands. “Look, if I just told you that your wife was murdered, would you feel any better?”
“No, but—”
“You’d need to track down the killer, right? You’d feel compelled to make sure you got justice. I know your type. You’re the kind of guy who thrives on clear-cut answers.”
I nod.
“You’d have a new mission, only, it wouldn’t end well for you. Not for your daughter, either. So here’s a better one—walk away. Move on with your life and help your daughter move on with hers. You’ll never have a blow-by-blow account of what happened to your wife that day, but if you accept the basic conclusion...do more details matter?”
I raise my eyebrow.
Of course, they matter.
Aster could be ice-cold no matter how often I tried to break through her wall, and harder to please, but she didn’t deserve to drown.
“Would it bring her back?” His tone says he senses my frustration.
“What?”
“If I built a time machine and took you back so you could watch every second play out—but you couldn’t change it—would it bring her back?”
“No. Of fucking course not. But Destiny and I might have closure. It’s her mother we’re talking about.”
“Respectfully, that’s what funerals are for. You and your daughter have all the closure you’re ever going to get. Honestly, Mr. Lancaster, I don’t think beating it into the ground will help.”
I sigh with a weight that tells him he’s right without admitting it.
I thought I’d put this all behind me years ago until being at the Kona house tore open old wounds.
Did I really think I’d get closure if the investigation stated the obvious?
Fat chance.
You know why you care and it’s got nothing to do with Aster, a voice in the back of my head screams.
I see Eliza, asleep on my chest, soft tufts of honey-brown hair being tossed in the breeze until I stroke them down into place again.
Is she the reason why I can’t move on?
No, it’s definitely more than that.
That turtle necklace felt like a curse—and maybe it’s a bigger one now that it’s gone.
Troy’s story about how I bought it for Aster at the market still bothers me. I don’t remember a goddamned thing.
Deep down, I’m sure I never did.
I went to the beach and slept off my jet lag like usual.
And my daughter’s messy hair, tear-stained face, and gashed-up leg after that thing was stolen...the way the robbery seemed so deliberate.
“I know you’re just sharing your wisdom, and I appreciate it,” I tell him. “The robbery still feels out of place, though.”
The detective nods. “It’s gone, isn’t it?”
I blink at him, unsure where he’s going with this.
“Yeah, it’s gone.”
He looks at me like a chemistry teacher waiting for his student to scrawl the last line of some formula.
Aster’s gone.
Her necklace is gone.
Destiny’s attackers are also gone without seriously hurting her, thank God.
Is that his point? Is he right?
Should I just let everything go?
I suddenly hate that I haven’t heard from Eliza since my last few bitter texts.
“Gone is gone, Mr. Lancaster,” he explains. “Even if you’re feeling bothered, in my opinion you’ll do yourself a solid dealing with what’s still here.”
“Thanks for meeting me,” I mutter as I stand.
I barely wait for him to wave goodbye before I’m heading for my car. I punch in Eliza’s contact on my phone from the back seat.
She doesn’t answer.
“Big surprise,” I say to myself, texting her instead.
Can we talk?
My phone dings a couple minutes later.
Eliza: Sure. Do you need a new drink? I’m actually off the clock right now. Why don’t you send the specs to my work email? I’m not sure it’s appropriate for the boss to be texting me on weekends.
Fuck. I’m surprised my screen isn’t frosted over.
At least I got a reply this time. I try calling again.
“Yes?” a voice that’s too frigid and husky to be Eliza’s answers.
“Where’s Eliza?” I growl.
“Fucking a rock star. She tells me he’s way better in bed than her last snarky businessman hookup. Can I take a message?”
“You are?”
“Your worst nightmare. Did you need something, Lump?”
My teeth grit together. Looks like Eliza hasn’t been shy about throwing that stupid nickname around.
“Tell her I need to talk to her. Also, I’m sorry.”
“Hmm, you’re funny. Because those are almost the right words, even if they’re a little bland, but totally wrong order. She’s knows you’re sorry. Now apologize like a man.”
I pull my phone back, staring at the screen in disbelief.
“Is this high school? Put her on now,” I snarl.
“Meh, I guess some things never change. She can’t come to the phone right now and I’m saving her the trouble.”
