Page 173 of His To Erase
“Tell me this is about a body,” he says by way of hello. “Because I’m elbows deep in a Sudoku puzzle and I’m starting to think the nine is lying to me.”
“I need you to run something.”
“You always need me to run something. I’m not your secretary. I want dental. PTO. Maybe a puppy.”
“Travis.”
“God, you’re sexy when you’re serious. Who is it?”
I don’t answer right away and the silence stretches.
“I need everything, we missed something.” I say. “Background. Employment. Education. Last name. Location history. All of it.”
There's another pause, then his tone shifts. “Oooh. You’ve got your patentedI might murder someone but also might cuddlevoice on. I like it.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying not to snap. “There’s something off. The records we pulled are too clean and too short.”
“That sounds like half your exes.”
“Travis.”
“Alright, alright. Jesus. What are you not telling me?”
I don’t answer. I’ve been watching all the wrong things. She hides it well, but not from me. I’ve seen enough people break to know what it looks like when someone’s already halfway shattered before you ever touch them.
I lean back, jaw tight. “I don’t think she knows who she is.”
Travis lets out a low whistle. “You always find the fun ones.”
“She remembers things that don’t make any sense.”
Travis exhales again, and this time it’s different. No jokes left. No sarcasm. “Okay. Shit.”
I lean forward, elbows braced on the desk, staring at her file like it’s a loaded weapon. It’s a smokescreen. Every time I dig, I find just enough to make me think I’ve reached the end. But I haven’t. Not even close.
“Something happened before she got here. Something that made her disappear inside her own skin. I’m willing to bet he was involved.”
A pause.
“You think she’s one of his?”
I close my eyes and the silence that follows answers for me.
“Jesus, Steven.”
I don’t respond to that, and he pauses. “You need me to start from the beginning?”
“No,” I say quietly. “I need you to start before the beginning.”
He whistles again. “You’re looking for a ghost.” Another beat of silence, then, “You’re in deep.”
“Just find me the truth.”
“I’ll do what I can,” he says. “But if I end up dead, you’re giving the eulogy.”
Click.
I stare at the file for another full minute before slowly closing it. Whatever he finds better not confirm what I already suspect. Because if she was never part of this—if she’s innocent…then I’ve made a colossal fucking mistake.
