My Ex Threw Me Away, Now He's Bleeding for Me novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: Friday

The photographer, Gideon, brings the time-stamped pictures to the police and hears her one rule. Paige's lawyer has sent a release with Margo's exact signature, and the only other copy of it is in Reid's desk.

I read the suspension email four times on Nell's couch and then I put the phone face down on the cushion.

"It's four a.m.," Nell said from the kitchen. "Nobody can lose a scholarship at four a.m."

"The housing ends Friday."

"Then you live here Friday."

"Nell."

"I have a couch and a lease I can't afford alone. You're doing me a favor."

She put a mug of tea into my hand and sat down on the floor at my feet.

It was the first kind thing anyone had said to me in a day.

At nine we went back to the police station.

The officer from the night before was waiting by the front desk.

Next to him was a man in a black jacket, with a laptop bag over his shoulder and two cameras on his lap.

I knew the jacket before I knew the face.

"Miss Tennant," the officer said. "This is the photographer I told you about. He came in at eight with his card."

The man stood up.

He was tall, with short dark hair and a day of stubble, and he had not slept much.

"Gideon Hale," he said, and didn't hold out his hand. "I took the pictures yesterday."

"I'm Margo."

"I know. The officer read me your statement." He looked at the floor and then at me. "I'm sorry I didn't get there faster."

I let that stand.

The officer pulled a printout across the desk.

It was a contact sheet, forty small frames, every one with a time stamp in the corner.

In the first frame Reid's brother had my wrist.

In the fifth, another brother had my shoulder.

In the twelfth, Paige was crouched at my stump, adjusting my dress.

Every face was sharp.

"I shot them wide open," Gideon said. "A court can read a clock. A court can't read a laughing crowd."

"The officer said that too."

"He's right. I've covered two trials. People say they weren't there until you show them a clock."

Nell leaned over my shoulder and went down the sheet with one finger.

"That's him, and him, and him. That one's the one who said to chin down."

"Did you watch the whole thing?" I asked.

I hadn't meant to ask it.

Gideon didn't answer right away.

"I came across the lawn when I saw it," he said. "I wasn't in the middle of it."

That was the whole answer.

I nodded, because I wanted it to be enough.

"I'm going to say something," I said, "and I need you to just hear it."

"Okay."

"Nobody carries me. Not ever. And nobody touches the leg unless I say so."

He looked at me for a second.

"Yesterday you took it out of my hands and put it on yourself," he said. "I noticed. I held it out, and I didn't touch you. I'd rather keep doing it that way."

"I'm serious."

"So am I." He picked up his bag. "I ask before I touch anyone's gear. Yours is a lot more important than a lens."

Nell made a small noise beside me that I decided to ignore.

The officer cleared his throat.

"There's another thing, Miss Tennant. The Danner girl's attorney faxed over a document last night."

He slid a single page across the desk.

At the top it said MODEL RELEASE and under that, in clean type, the name of Paige's project.

Unfiltered: Bodies on Display.

At the bottom, on the line marked SUBJECT, was a signature.

It was mine.

The loop on the M, the long flat tail on the T, the little dot I put over the o in Margo when I was in a hurry.

It was dated April 3.

"I never signed this," I said.

My voice came out very quiet.

"I never saw this paper. I was at my mother's on April 3. I have the train ticket."

"We'll want that," the officer said.

"That's my signature," I said. "It's exactly my signature. Look at the dot."

Nell took the page out of my hand.

"How does she even get it that good? Paige can't draw a straight line."

"She doesn't have to," Gideon said. "She just needs a page to trace."

I stared at him.

He shrugged.

"I shoot a lot of weddings. You'd be amazed what a person can trace."

I thought of every paper I had signed that spring.

Work-study forms.

A lease renewal.

The Garrity Fellowship renewal, which I had signed in March at Reid's desk.

He had said his father's office needed it right away and that he'd walk it over himself.

He had kept the signed copy in his top drawer.

He had told me he would keep it safe.

"Margo?" Nell said.

I put the release down on the desk.

"The only other place that signature exists," I said, "is in Reid's desk."

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