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“And yet somehow you thought talking to the media would help.”
I take another sip of my coffee and consider the least messy way to murder Henry in my kitchen. I really like these pants. “I don’t know. Maybe I did.”
“Face it, Charlotte. You like the attention.”
Considering the odds of killing a person in self-defense twice in one week and getting away with it seem slim, I offer a forced sigh. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I never asked for any of this.”
He motions around the room. “Didn’t you though?”
I set the mug down, realizing the odds are probably not in my favor. Henry will have to die quietly. “What’s your point?”
“My point? My point is you have no idea what it took to get in here.”
He’s wrong. I do know. I watched him scale the wall that surrounds our backyard. Henry in his fancy suit, not a hair out of place. Sometimes I am surprised by how much tougher he is than he looks. “I’m here because they want me to bring you in.” He stabs at his phone. “Now.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Maybe,” he shrugs. “Although, who’s to say? I’m just the messenger.”
I was prepared for this. Still, despite everything, Henry siding with the agency stings. “Would they be happier if I’d gotten shot?”
“Did you really need to go on television?”
“I needed a way to get to Dunsmore. I needed to get out of this house. And I figured if I gave a statement—things would die down.”
“You made a statement all right.”
“It was live. I didn’t plan it that way. I was…what do they call it? On the spot.”
“Well, that was a fucking disaster if I ever saw one…”
I look away. “Tell them they’re going to have to come to me.”
“You know that’s impossible.”
“If I leave here with this circus on my lawn, there’s a good chance I’ll be followed. Tell them that.”
Henry stares at me for a long time.
“You drugged me.”
I sip my coffee, peering at him over the mug. “Me? Drug you?” I asked, knitting my brow. “Why would I do that?”
“You shouldn’t lie to me, Charlotte.” He nods toward a vacation photo of Michael and the girls that’s stuck to the refrigerator. “I’m probably the only person who can see right through you.”
“I cannot change your mind if it’s already made up then, can I?”
Henry sighs heavily. I’ve called his bluff and he knows it. He can’t prove anything, and at this point, it doesn’t matter. He has a choice to make. He knows I won’t go with him willingly. Nor will I stand by and let him tear my family apart. “I can’t keep saving your ass, you know.”
“I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you to tell a good story.”
“Telling stories is not what they pay me for,” he says before turning his attention back to the video.
I wait for him to say more, to argue, to make his move, but when he doesn’t, I walk around the bar and lean in close. “You wouldn’t hurt me would you, Henry?” I say, pressing my cheek to his shoulder, in precisely the kind of singsong voice I know he hates.
“Just watch the goddammned video, Charlotte. Otherwise I might.”
It surprises me that he calls me by my real name a third time. Sometimes I doubt he even remembers. I take it as the positive sign that it is. I’ve gotten him emotional. I’ve made it personal. That’s why he came. And that’s how you win.
