Then she said, very calmly, “Tell me you haven’t confronted him.”
“I haven’t.”
“Good. Don’t. I’m getting off in twenty.”
I looked down at my notebook, at the slanted line of my own handwriting.
Outside, dusk was starting to blue the windows. Somewhere in Manhattan, Nathan was probably lifting a wineglass and smiling like his life was perfectly arranged.
By the time Roz got to my house, I had found all thirty-two charges.
And by then, I wasn’t waiting for an explanation anymore.
I was following a trail.
Part 2
Roz arrived with two grocery bags, her keys between her fingers like claws and her ER badge still clipped to her scrubs. She kicked the door shut behind her with her heel and set the bags on the kitchen island like she was unloading emergency supplies.
“What’s in there?” I asked.
“Ice cream, chips, a legal pad, and sparkling water because you’re pregnant and I’m trying not to be trash.”
“Only trying?”
She gave me a look. “Don’t be cute. Have you touched any knives?”
Despite myself, I almost laughed. “No.”
“Good. We stay off true crime tonight.”