Chapter 4: Bridge Club

Patrice bent down and fixed the collar of Leo's shirt.

She smoothed his hair with her palm.

She had never once done that to Liam.

I stopped the recording and called her.

On the porch, Patrice's handbag started to ring.

She dug the phone out, looked at the screen, and rolled her eyes at Danielle.

Danielle laughed.

Patrice put a finger to her lips and answered.

"Erin, dear. Is everything all right?"

Her voice came through my phone and, faintly, through my open window.

"Everything's fine," I said. "The house is so quiet with them gone. I thought I'd bring you lunch."

"Oh, that's sweet. But I'm at bridge club."

On the porch, Leo tugged her hand toward the door.

"Bridge on a Saturday morning?"

"A tournament. Marjorie's house. I really can't talk."

"Of course. Who's winning?"

"Nobody yet, dear. Goodbye."

She hung up.

She handed the phone to Danielle, who read the screen and laughed again.

Then they all went inside and shut the red door.

I sat in the car for a while.

A man walking a golden retriever looked at me twice.

Finally I texted Sebastian.

Can you see me today?

He wrote back in under a minute.

One o'clock. Bring the video you're about to tell me you took.

His office was on the twenty-second floor of a glass tower downtown.

There was no receptionist on Saturday.

He opened the door himself.

He was taller than he looked on television, broad in a charcoal sweater, gray coming in at his temples.

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