Page 76 of In the Air Tonight

Houston and I spend two grueling hours going through every aspect of my statement. He picks it apart for holes he says the AG will ask me about, but I have an answer for everything. Whether those answers will satisfy the prosecutor is anyone’s guess. We’ll find out tomorrow.

Feeling battered, I leave the police station and head to the grocery store to pick up a few things I need as well as the snacks I promised to bring to Jack’s. I keep replaying the meeting with Houston and the emotions it resurrected. It’s overwhelming to tell my story for the third time in as many days after keeping it bottled up for so long.

I leave the windows down to let in the scents of autumn. That was my favorite time of year when I was a kid. I loved the fall colors and have always had an interest in gardening, although I’ve not been able to do much of that since I live in the city. My grandmother taught me the names of all the flowers, bushes and trees. I love that I can identify any of them on sight.

It's nice to think about things other than why I’m here. With a week to ten days until we’ll hear from the grand jury, I could go back to New York. I should do that. Wendall is texting me nonstop, and I’ve heard from others at the theater that he’s been more unmanageable than usual since I left.

Call me crazy but going back to that doesn’t appeal to me at all.

I pull into a spot at the grocery store. Before I can lose my nerve, I text Wendall.The family situation is complicated. I’dlike to work remotely for the next month. If you can’t allow that, I’ll understand. Let me know.

I’m coming out of the store carrying a brown bag when my phone chimes with a new text from Wendall.

Family is everything. I understand. You can work however you want. I need you to keep me sane, Blaise, the goddess of organization. Please don’t leave me.

I laugh out loud at his over-the-top-ness. That’s the nicest thing he’s ever said to me. I should’ve had a “family crisis” sooner so I could find some humanity in him. My friends at the theater will be shocked by his kindness, but they also know how much I do for him.

As I’m getting ready to pull out of my parking space, the phone chimes again. Assuming it’s Wendall with more drama, I glance at the screen.

Sienna. I never did take her out of my phone contacts, even though I should have a long time ago.

I heard you’re back in town. I just hope you’re not running your mouth about things that don’t matter anymore.

A chill goes down my spine. Is that a threat? How did she hear I’m home? I haven’t seen anyone but my mother, who’d never tell a soul because I asked her not to.

As I drive to Jack’s, I keep an eye on the rearview mirror to see if I’m being followed. I’m the only car on the road, but I can’t escape the feeling that someone is watching me. That people have heard I’m back in town. That Sienna is the only other person on Earth who knows what we saw that night unless she eventually told Cam.

I doubt she did.

The anxiety her text arouses in me is tinged with sadness for a friendship that was destroyed on that momentous night. At one time, she was the most important person in my life. We told each other everything. And then that was gone, along with myinnocence, my peace of mind, my sense of worth and so many other things suddenly lost because of one person’s actions.

I’m shaken by Sienna’s text and think about texting Jack to ask if we can get together another time. But as appealing as crawling into bed and pulling the covers over my head might seem, I don’t want to be alone.

So I arrange the crackers, cheese and fig spread I bought on a plate and then wash the grapes I got to have with it. I tuck a bottle of Chardonnay under my arm and head across the yard to Jack’s back door. From outside, I see lights on in his third-floor studio, so I follow his directions to the stairs. The beat of loud music gets closer as I go up two flights.

The door to the studio stands open, and Jack is singing along to “Gimme Shelter” by the Rolling Stones.

I stand back and watch him as he studies something on a huge drawing board, hands stuffed into the back pockets of his jeans, feet bare as usual and Fenway asleep on a bed by the window.

She senses me there first, and shoots to her feet, barking happily as she comes to greet me.

Jack turns to me, smiling, and cuts the volume on the music. “There you are. We’d about given up on you.”

“My meeting took longer than expected.”

“No worries. Come in.” He takes the plate and bottle of wine from me and puts them on a table, out of the dog’s reach.

“So this is where the magic happens, huh?”

“That’s what I’m told. I’m sorry it’s such a god-awful mess. It makes sense to me.”

Chaos is definitely the word I’d use to describe the colorful drawings tacked up on every available space on the wall, the works-in-progress on just about every surface as well as the paint and ink that stain the floor.

I point to a vivid illustration tacked up on a far wall. “May I?”

“Please. Make yourself at home while I check out the snacks you brought. I was just starting to get hungry.”

The color and detail are striking. He’s done everything from super heroes to fiery dragons to gentle scenes from a children’s story. Animals seem to be his specialty. I gasp at the drawing of Fenway that perfectly captures her, right down to the active tongue.

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