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“You don’t,” Alex says. “You couldn’t possibly.”

“No?” he says. His voice has an edge to it now. “You don’t think I have struggled? That I struggle?”

“I don’t think you have any idea what I’ve gone through, Tom.” She feels a flash of anger now, avoiding eye contact as she reaches down to collect her sandals from the kitchen floor. Heels. She’d nearly forgotten. What a dumb thing to wear. She glances at the door.

“Oh no?” His voice is getting impatient. “Maybe not, but I know you can’t just escape the past.”

Her breath catches in her throat. She turns slowly, her shoes dangling from her hand. “What did you just say?” She looks at him. This man, this stranger.

His chest rises and falls. “Oh, come on, Alex. It’s obvious that you’re hiding from something.”

The first times they’d met flash in her memory, the coffee shop and then later on the street. Funny how it was always Tom approaching her. Almost as though he’d planned it that way. Was it all really just happenstance, or is there something more deliberate about the way Tom has inserted himself into her life? “Why did you ask me out, Tom?” Alex says, edging toward the door.

He steps toward her. “What do you mean? You just seemed interesting to me. I felt like we already knew each other somehow.” But she no longer believes him. The words of the letter coming straight out of his mouth are too much of a coincidence. She snatches her phone off the counter, her heart hammering.

“Alex, please.” He is pulling on a T-shirt, following her to the door. “Are you sure I can’t make you breakfast? I have a very good French toast recipe.” She almost wants to laugh at this.

“Alex,” he calls out as she darts past him. “Please.” But she doesn’t dare look back. She can’t trust him. She should never have allowed herself to go on the date to begin with.

THIRTY-NINE

The Bluebird is nearly empty when Alex ducks out of the office to meet Janice and Raymond for an “emergency summit,” as Janice named it on their group text.

“Sit, Alex. You look exhausted,” Janice says, guiding her to a booth in back instead of their usual corner at the counter. “Just wait here a minute. I’ll be right back.” She disappears into the kitchen and returns to the booth holding a tray aloft on her arm.

“Here we are, grilled cheeses and Cokes,” she says, arranging everything on the Formica in front of them and settling herself heavily into the booth across from Alex.

“Thank you,” Alex says. “No Raymond, huh?” He hadn’t replied to the group chat and she hasn’t seen him since the night at the hotel. She wishes he were here now. Even though he can be reactive, his advice has always made Alex feel safer, like someone is looking out for her.

“I haven’t seen him at all since the other night.”

She thinks of his shoulder, how fragile it felt under her hand. “Do you think he’s okay?”

Janice waves a hand, brushing off her worry. “You know men, especially that generation. He probably just got embarrassed. I’m sure he’ll be back.” Alex watches the concern cloud her eyes. She isn’t entirely sure. Janice’s cheeks are pink after a long shift on her feet. “Eat. You need to eat something.”

Alex’s stomach has been turning at the idea of food, but she picks up her own grilled cheese and takes a bite to be polite. It is better than she expects. The outside crisp and salty, the cheese perfectly melted. It is, without exaggeration, the best thing she’s ever tasted. Suddenly she is ravenous and has eaten half of the sandwich. Janice watches, a satisfied smile on her lips. “The key is a little mayo on the bread before you grill it,” Janice whispers.

When they are both finished eating, Janice leans back and wipes her fingers on her apron. “So, you want to tell me what’s going on?”

Alex tugs on the hems of her sleeves, tucking her hands inside. Alex doesn’t want to divulge too much; she’s afraid Janice will look at her differently when she knows what she’s done. Or what a mess she left behind. And she can’t tell Janice about what happened with Tom without opening herself up to all sorts of other questioning that will make her feel stupid for even going home with him in the first place. So she focuses on the other new piece of information.

“I found out something else about Howard I’ve been meaning to tell you. My assistant Lucy hid under my desk when he came into the room. She said he’d made a pass at her. And she wasn’t the only one, according to her. She was hysterical.”

“That sleazebag,” Janice says, slurping angrily from her Coke. “So, he’s a pedophile on top of everything else.”

“Well, I believe the girls are in their twenties,” Alex says. “So not minors.”

“Pfft.” Janice rolls her eyes and flaps a hand through the air. “No one’s brain is developed like an adult’s until they are at least twenty-five. You can google it.”

Alex tends to agree with her. “They do seem young, and honestly, when you factor in the power imbalance, there is something really awful about it.” She can see how a young woman would be flattered by attention from a boss as magnetic as Howard, how she could be lured by the glamour of it all, not recognizing the tradeoff she’s made until it is too late.

“Did you get the names of these other girls?” Janice asks.

“Just the first name of one, Veronica. I didn’t ask for any others. Lucy seemed quite fragile. I didn’t want to make her even more upset. She was afraid of losing her job. Apparently he threatened her career if she told anyone.”

“And you think Francis Keen could have seen Howard with one of these young girls before, you know?” Janice makes a slight stabbing motion with her pickle. Alex nods. They look at each other across the table for a beat, silenced by the implications. Alex looks down into the patterns on the Formica. Her eyes blur with exhausted tears.

“Maybe I can’t do this anymore,” she says, her throat tight. “Maybe I should just turn the notes and everything I know in to the police and be done with it.”