Page 81 of The Woman with the Wallet

We hadn’t exactly discussed what was clearly going on with us. But it seemed we were both silently just agreeing to… go with the flow. Let it happen. Whatever ‘it’ was.

We grabbed more coffee on the way to Zeno’s, then spent a solid twenty minutes knocking and calling to him before he finally pulled the door open, bleary-eyed and wearing a pair of watermelon-print sleep pants and a massively oversized blue hoodie.

“Good morning,” Miko said, holding out the coffee we’d brought him.

“Woulda been better at eleven. Or noon,” Zeno grumbled, yawning, as he walked over toward his desks.

“Long night?” Miko asked.

“Long frustrating night,” Zeno admitted, waking up all of his screens. “I’ve gone through years of chat records, bills, everything you can think of. I can’t find evidence of Henry ever having roommates. Though, I do have messages out to a few other people in the apartment building, asking about him.”

“Why would anyone answer that?” I asked.

“I may or may not have implied he’s a deadbeat dad with years’ worth of back child support due, and his very ill baby mama can’t find him.”

“Hey, whatever works,” I said, shrugging. “Why are you watching that?” I asked, looking at one of his screens to see the footage of me on the street just before I spotted Miko and set my sights on him.

“Forgot it was playing,” Zeno said with a shrug as he cradled his coffee like a lifeline. “You really are good at that.”

“I really needed to be,” I said, watching myself as I pulled up my hood before making my way toward Miko.

It was interesting, though, to see it from above. The ease of it. Miko’s complete ignorance of what just happened to him.

I was about to look away as I watched myself tuck the wallet away, remembering how satisfied I’d felt.

But it was right then that a face seemed to jump out to me in the crowd. Why, I had no idea. He blended in with everyone else. A sea of people moving down the streets as they did every single day.

Maybe it was the way his gaze was on me.

Intense.

Hard.

Familiar.

Even in a grainy street video, those piercing blue eyes made my stomach tighten.

“Max?” Miko called.

But I was rushing to lean across the desk, slamming down the space bar before he could disappear.

“There,” I said, stabbing a finger toward the screen. “That’s him.”

“Him who?” Zeno asked.

“Are you sure?” Miko asked.

“How the fuck do you zoom in on this? Blow this up,” I demanded of Zeno.

“Okay. Alright. Hold on,” Zeno said, rolling closer, then not only making the image larger, but clearer after a few clicks.

“That’s him,” I said, more sure than ever.

“It’s not very clear,” Miko said.

“Miko, he sat on my thighs and he strangled me. Over and over. I looked up into that face. I know what he looks like.”

Concern and anger crossed Miko’s handsome features in a blink. “Okay,” he said, voice soft. “Alright. Is that clear enough to try to run facial recognition?” Miko asked Zeno as he moved over to me, pressing a hand to my lower back, steering me away from the screens. Like he knew that the longer I stared at it, the more I was sucked back into my bedroom, to that night, to the fear, to the breathlessness, to the feelings of horrifying helplessness.

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