Page 47 of Kill Me Tomorrow

“Yeah, you think so now.” The woman nodded. “Just wait until you meet her.”

* * *

Ali made the first move.She introduced herself and talked about how she knew the host. A former neighbor. She asked how long he’d lived in the area and what he did for a living.Pediatric oncologist. It impressed her, but she didn’t let on. Edward would tell her later what surprised him most was how easy she was to talk to. A breath of fresh air, he said. This did not surprise her. A conversation connoisseur, Ali had icebreakers for days. She was intentional, careful not to lead with the fact that she has a background in psychology, sex education, literature, and economics. She certainly didn’t let on that she’s a movie buff, an avid reader, a history nerd, and a bit of a techie. She asked questions instead and let Edward fill in the blanks later.

She asked him about his favorite book, the best meal he’d ever had, where he took his last vacation. Ali listened to his answers, but more than that she made sure to listen tohowhe answered. She noticed what he did with his hands when he spoke, if he chewed at his lip, the way his eyes flickered with emotion, or didn’t.

Intimate conversation is Ali’s jam. It’s an art she knows has little to do with talking dirty or flirtation. She leaned in close so she could hear everything he said. Ali didn’t break eye contact. She wanted him to feel like the most important person in the room. And she was sure he did. Edward had her complete and undivided attention. Before he knew it, he told Ali later, just after they’d slept together, he found himself wanting to tell her things he’d never told anyone. Not his best friend. Not his long-time girlfriend, Catherine. Not even his therapist.

Five minutes in, Edward told her his job hadn’t felt fulfilling lately. After ten minutes, he mentioned he was nervous about going home for Christmas. After a half hour, he confessed that he’d always been the stable one in his family, that he was tired of being the go-between among his checked-out father and his control-freak mother. He talked about his sister, the fuck-up who’d always been their favorite, despite the fact that she thinks of no one but herself.

The drink in his hand went mostly unconsumed. She wanted to make him feel like it was just the two of them in the room, like the rest of the party had drifted away, and it worked. When their eyes met, what she saw reflected back was a sense of familiarity. That feeling enveloped her like a warm summer breeze. She was tuned in, tapped in, turned on. She smiled. This is what she came for.

He must have sensed he’d said too much, so he suddenly straightened his back and shook his head. He downed his drink; and told Ali that suddenly his throat felt tight. The room had to be ten degrees warmer. “Damn,” he said. “Look at me, dumping my entire life story on you.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you didn’t come to Sharon and Dave’s engagement party to listen to a boring physician talk about his childhood wounds.”

“It’s Deborah.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’sDeborahand Dave’s party.”

“Gosh, that’s right.” He shook his head. “I don’t know why I said Sharon.”What was wrong with him?

“Don’t be sorry,” she said kindly. “It’s been a pleasure getting to know you.”

He studied her curiously. “Are you sure you aren’t a therapist?”

She laughed, but she didn’t give a direct answer. Instead, she told him she loves talking to people. And not long after, she looked away, and the ambient music and background chatter slowly rose, reminding him that there were other people in the room.

Edward smiled. It was sweet, that moment. After they broke apart to rejoin their dates and the rest of the party, he looked at her from across the room a little nervously.What the hell just happened? What had gotten into him, pouring his heart out to a total stranger?

He couldn’t know this, not then. But the exact moment when someone stopped being average and became an actual person, with a dark and complex story beyond his or her 150-character Instalook bio,that’swhen Ali came alive.

They didn’t speak again for the rest of the night. But later, as everyone said their goodbyes to the hosts, they met again in the logjam at the door. She let the awkwardness hang in the air for a second longer than necessary and then smiled at him in a friendly way to let him know there was no harm, no foul. He looked relieved. She wasn’t creeped out or going to cause any trouble.

He told her it was nice to meet her, and the two of them laughed awkwardly, although her eyes conveyed something different, something shared. Intimacy. “I hope Christmas goes okay,” she said. “Family stuff can be treacherous.” Then he walked out the door and got in his car. He thought he’d never see her again.

He told her later that he’d thought of her on the drive home, with a slight unease, the kind that made him question his entire life. He didn’t need to worry. Ali wouldn’t share the things he told her, not with anyone. Because honestly? No one would care. It’s not like he confessed to having several hacked-up bodies in a freezer in his basement or to running million-dollar scams on the elderly. Ali’s seen a lot. She knows most confessions are rarely as unique as people think they are. But Edward didn’t know that. He just knew he had an out-of-character, personal encounter with a beautiful woman who had kind eyes and a friendly smile. He shared things that were deeply personal. Then it was over. She left and took his secrets with her.

Until he ran into her again, the following summer at another party. He bumped into her by the cooler. They chatted briefly about the weather. Ali has an excellent memory. Her breath quickened as she asked how Christmas went with his family. He didn’t know it at the time, but this is what she came for. She doesn’t have a photographic memory, but she can recall details about people that go back decades. Even her archives have archives. Edward looked at her, brows raised. “Jesus, that’s right, I told you that.” His face reddened, but not from the dead heat of summer. He’d forgotten her name, and it was obvious.

She stuck out her hand and smiled. “It’s okay,” she said. “We met forever ago. At Deborah and Dave’s engagement party.”

“I remember.”

“I’m Ali,” she said. “Ali Brown.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Ethan

Ifinally got a break in the Lucas Bennett case. Max called and said they got a lead from the police tip hotline. He told me the initial tip led the caller to him as the lead detective on the case. The caller, a neighbor at the apartment building where the senator’s son lived, told Max that he distinctly recalled seeing two people, a male and a female, either enter or exit, Lucas Bennett’s apartment around the time of his death. The male was a plumber, and the woman was dressed in a fancy trench coat. The caller also did not believe that Lucas Bennett killed himself. Ethan wasn’t sure why the caller thought his opinion mattered that much.

Thankfully, when Max calls to relay the information, I am not in the school drop-off line. “I thought you might want the address so you could speak to him. Thought it might help with your case. Hypothetically speaking.”

“Of course. I’d love to,” I say, grabbing something to write with.

“Just don’t mention the PD or how you got the information. Act like a curious neighbor or the press or something, I don't know.”

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