Page 71 of Everything You Want Me to Be

“Our situation is a little more complicated than most people’s.”

“Don’t you want to go with me?”

He didn’t say anything and I almost started crying right then. Then he put a hand over his face. “I do.”

The hope and love surged through me so fast and fierce I almost couldn’t breathe.

“Then come with me.”

“It’s not that simple.” Finally he turned around. His eyes were full of despair.

“Actually it is.”

“I’m married, Hattie.”

“So get unmarried.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“It really is, Peter. You sayI don’t want to be married to you anymore. Here are the divorce papers. Goodbye.”

“Her mother is dying.”

“Her mother was dying two months ago when you ran off to Minneapolis to sleep with me. She was dying an hour ago when you were kissing me under this tree.”

“Mary can’t know about this. The last thing she needs right now is—”

“I don’t care what the last thing Mary needs is. I’ll tell her myself. She comes in to the pharmacy every week for her mom’s prescriptions.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” His voice went low and scared. He grabbed my arm.

I leaned in close, close enough to feel the heat of his breath, to see his pupils dilate and the blood beat against his throat.

“You have no idea what I would or wouldn’t do, Peter. Remember? All my names, all my identities that make you so crazy?” I gave him a tight, angry smile, even as my heart was breaking. “Who knows which one your wife might meet the next time she stops in for her meds?”

I wrenched my arm out of his hand, hard enough that it hurt, and marched down the hill and back toward the barn. I wanted to look back, to see if he was following me to apologize, but I didn’t. I wanted to run, too, faster than anyone had ever run before, but I didn’t do that either. I walked in the dried mud tracks of a combine that had plowed through these fields last fall, letting the tears come, feeling the ache in my arm where he’d grabbed me. By the time I got back to the pickup, I was sniffling and trying not to lose it completely. I drove home and walked in the front door to see Mom sitting at the kitchen table with my computer open in front of her. She looked from the screen to my face with heavy, disappointed eyes.

“We need to talk.”

DEL/ Wednesday, April 16, 2008

I GOTback to the station that afternoon after talking to Fran, half hoping the DNA results would be sitting on my desk. Instead, Mona was waiting in my office, her hands quietly folded and eyes down as she sat in the visitor’s chair. Winifred Erickson was with her. I thought about my phone call with Bud this morning, how he’d hung up on me, while I stood on the other side of the glass looking at them.

Jake came over with some warrants: two for outstanding tickets and one failure to appear. County business still had to go on.

“How long have they been here?” I asked as I signed the warrants.

“Twenty minutes maybe.” He kept his voice down. “I tried to get them to wait in the conference room, but they just walked in there and sat down. Didn’t say a word to anyone.”

I nodded. “What else do you have?”

“The rest of Hattie’s computer was pretty clean. A lot of temporary internet files and cookies for New York websites. It looked like she was browsing for places to live, even made a few inquiries by email. No confirmations, though. I didn’t get the feeling she was ready to hightail it, just getting the lay of the land.”

Jake glanced around to make sure no one was nearby before continuing. “No other communication with LitGeek, as far as I can see.”

“And her phone records?”

“Nothing. Tons of texts, all to friends, and a few every week with Tommy.”