Page 114 of What's Left of Us

Going through my contacts, I hover over one as I look out the window at the fading prison as we drive down the road.

She picks up on the second ring.

I lean my head against the cool glass window and ask, “Can we talk?”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Lincoln / Present

The vase inthe center of the table is full of white carnations, filling the room with a strong floral scent that assaults my nose with old memories.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she says when she sees what I’m staring at. “Carnations are my favorite flower. If they bother you, I can put them in the hall.”

My eyes lift from the assortment carefully put together. “They are?”

She nods with an easy smile on her face as she leans forward and readjusts a few of the flowers in the vase. “They’re my birth flower. I’ve enjoyed them since I was a little girl.”

Swallowing when I remember the bouquet I brought home to my wife years ago, I shake my head. What are the chances? “Georgia hated carnations,” I murmur.

Not that I knew that when I’d bought her them. She didn’t tell me. It was the first of many things she held back.

Then again, I was no different.

All she says is, “They’re not for everybody.”

I sit back and try ignoring the flowers in front of me. “Thank you for meeting me.”

“Of course.” She repositions in her chair. “I was surprised to hear from you. Is everything all right?”

Ever since getting back from Rikers with Dickers, I’ve been thinking about my conversation with Volley. When I showed the note to Beaugard, he told me it was going to be a challenge to move forward with the information because it was off the record.Even though Volley signed the paper, he didn’t think it would be enough to try getting Nikolas Del Rossi in to talk.

“I’ve never been closer to getting the answers I’ve wanted,” I tell her. “And it got me thinking about what comes…after.”

“After,” she repeats.

“You said that people like us need to find new things to look forward to in life.”

She nods. “I did.”

“What is it thatyoulook forward to?”

Her shoulders lift. “I find little things to look forward to every day. Seeing friends and family. Coming to work and helping people. Going out and ordering my favorite meal. Buying myself my favorite flowers. It doesn’t always have to be so deep.”

My eyes go back to the flowers. “You don’t look forward to more?”

“More as in…?”

“Companionship?”

Her lips press together. “I find companionship in those I’m close to.”

But not romantically.

I ask, “Who got you the flowers, doc?”

She smiles. “I bought them for myself.”

Nobody gave them to her. I store that information in the back of my mind.

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