Chapter 20: Dalton's List

Natalie's POV

Rhys knocked at half past four, and I opened the door in his old T-shirt.

He held a leather satchel in both hands.

"Amber gave it to me at her studio," he said. "She asked me to say she called the ambulance herself."

"Did she?"

"No. The girl with the clipboard did."

"Then why is he saying it?"

"Because she asked," he said. "And because she's very frightened, and it's the only thing she could think to ask for."

I took the satchel, and my hands wouldn't stay steady.

I opened the flap, and the seven notebooks lay in a row, the blue one on top with its cracked cover.

"All of them," I said.

"Yes."

"Why are you telling me this like you're sorry?"

"I held her wrist for a minute," he said. "She asked if I held yours the same way."

"What did you say?"

"Nothing. I didn't think I should."

I stood in my own doorway with my childhood in my arms.

I looked at the man whose house I had left at dawn the day before.

"You're not in trouble," I said.

"That's not what I was afraid of."

"I know what you were afraid of." I leaned my forehead against his chest for a moment. "Come in. There's coffee."

At six exactly a knock came at the front door.

Dalton stood on my porch in a borrowed shirt too short in the sleeves, shaved, sober, with a laptop bag over his shoulder.

He did not look at Rhys.

"I'm not asking to come back," he said. "I'm asking to cancel a post."

I stood aside, and he walked into my kitchen.

He set the laptop on my table, and I watched him open it and type for a long time.

The screen showed a dashboard with a green button and a clock counting down to eight.

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