Page 144 of Irreversible

Dropping the plate onto his work desk, I flip my curls over my shoulder and lift my chin with a pleasant smile. “Good morning.”

He glares at me. “Right.”

“I’m not sure why you’re always so grouchy. I bring you food.” I shrug, chin lifting. “Your co-workers love me.”

“That’s because they don’t have to deal with you. They only get to reap the benefits of your above-average baking abilities.” He looks down at the covered plate, unwrapping one of the edges and plucking a brownie from the pile. Powdered sugar dusts his fingers as he takes a big bite. “You’re a master manipulator, Everly Cross.”

“It’s Mayfield now.” I plant my hands on my hips and arch an eyebrow. “Are you profiling me?”

“Just stating the obvious. You’ve had a bug up your ass since our follow-up meeting, and now you’re trying to pull answers out of me—answers I clearly don’t have, mind you—with sugar and carbs.”

He’s not wrong.

Two weeks after I moved in with my mother, reduced to a broken-down mess of heartache, I scheduled that interview with Detective Tanner. I pressed him about Isaac. He was a stone block for most of the conversation, but then there was a moment I’ll never forget; a subtle interaction I can’t let go of.

I mentioned Sara, Isaac’s sister, and a look traveled across his face.

Painful.

Personal.

He blinked away what I’d already noticed and cleared his throat. “… So, did he tell you anything about her?”

My breath caught. I stared back at him, trying to see beyond the ruse. “You tell me.”

Tanner shut down and recovered quickly. “Listen…I’m sorry, but we found no evidence of him. I believe you, and I’m not saying you imagined this guy, but we did a thorough search of that place. All remains discovered were identified. He wasn’t there. If he made it out, he’s gone. Maybe he got on a plane, left the country. Changed his identity. You said he had multiple; sounds like he could be some sort of con artist.”

His words rang true, but…

My instincts are strong, and I trust them more than anything. I saw something that day. Felt a niggling intuition pinging in my bones. Tanner knows more than he’s letting on.

Now I’ve made it my mission to uncover the truth.

I’m not sure if he’s protecting me and withholding a death confirmation to spare me from more potential heartache, or if something more complex is simmering in the background. Either way, I’m stubborn. Once a month, I make the five-plus-hour commute from San Francisco to Los Angeles and stop by the station—a pitstop on the way to my mother’s house.

I bring treats. I bring smiles.

I bring a constant reminder that I’m not going away.

Before I can say anything else, another woman comes barging into Tanner’s office with box-dye red hair hacked off at the shoulders, tattoos covering both arms, and pillowy crimson lips. Fire spews from pale-green eyes.

“You need to back off,” she hisses, sweeping past me and planting both palms on his desk as she lurches forward. “I mean it.”

Tanner’s posture changes when he sees her, a new look inhabiting his gaze. Softness at first, but then something more volatile. “I’m busy, Shay.”

“Clear your schedule. I’ll wait.” The woman glances at me, doing a double take, as if just noticing my presence. She deflates a bit. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Is he giving you trouble, too?”

Tanner moves around the desk and grips her arm, leading her out of the office. “Vice versa. I don’t have time for either of you today.” They exit the room as Shay pries herself out of his hold. “You can make an appointment with Astrid. I’ll be available sometime next year.”

It appears I’m not the only one with a bug up her ass.

The inflamed redhead gets right in his face. “You have no right. Keep meddling in my business, and I’ll make your life hell.”

“I’m seeing that.”

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