Page 94 of Saltwater

“Why are you running from me?” he asks.

“I’m not running,” I say. “I just didn’t hear you.”

“Can we talk?” he says.

“Now isn’t a good time.”

I try to squeeze past him, to slip between his body and the stone wall, but he closes the gap. He holds his hands up.

“I’m the source,” he says. “The one that pushed for the reopening of the investigation. I know you’ve seen it by now. But I was always waiting on that information from Lorna. I knew it was there, that she would find it eventually. And she did. What I need to know is if you’ve found it.”

I think of the blank browser, the empty desktop,Saltwater.Me.

“I’ve been busy with other things,” I say.

He shakes his head. “I’ve been thinking,” he says. “It must have been your uncle who met her that night at the marina.”

“How do you know that someone met her at the marina?” I ask. It seems impossible that the police came to his yacht. Showed him the same photo. But how else would he know a man had met her that night?

“The police and I…” He doesn’t finish. He doesn’t have to. Ofcourse Stan has gotten himself involved. What did he promise them? A new building? Donations? Cars?

“I think we’reallresponsible for what happened to Lorna,” I finally say.

I know Stan always considered Lorna expendable. Girls like her always are, not just to him, but to my uncle, to families like mine. They’re a quick NDA, an easy settlement. Everyone moves on.

“What do you need me to do?” he says.

It isn’t defensive. And I believe him; hewantsto help. Or at least he feels that he should, that he owes it to me or to my mother. Since I saw Stan at the funicular, I’ve been wondering if Lorna broughtSaltwaterto Capri to sell to Stan. What it reveals about my family, about me, about their potential motivations—the way it dramatizes their betrayals, the insecurity of their world—maybe Lorna thought Stan could use it. That it was enough for him, for the police, to gain a little leverage.

And so I pull the manila envelope out of my bag, where I’ve kept it since yesterday. I don’t have copies, and I know it’s a risk trusting Stan, but I need someone with more resources on my side. I need to make it clear to them that these pages, these rumors, this hard truth, will haunt them more publicly than I can. They’ve been able to hide me. But they won’t be able to hide from Stan, from the increased police scrutiny.

Hopefully I won’t need those things. But I need a backup. Didn’t Lorna think of Stan as an excellent backup?

“This is what she found,” I say, handing him the envelope. “We’ll be at the ballet on Gallo Lungo tonight. Can you make a copy and meet me there with the original?”

Stan doesn’t even wait. He opens the folder and fans through the pages.

“Do you know what this is?” he asks me.

“Her play,” I say.

“Her last play.”

“Stan,” I ask, “can you get the police there?”

“Yes,” he says. “Of course. What are you going to do?”

I don’t answer. Because what I’m going to do is crack the family open. No one but me fully understands what that means.

“Don’t let her down, Stan. Don’t let either of them down.”

I push past him.

—

My phone rings again.This time I answer.

“Where are you?” Ciro asks.

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