Page 175 of Pieces of Her (Andrea Oliver 1)

“I work with patients who—” She had to stop to swallow. “I wanted to help people. After what we did. And when I was in jail, the only book I had was this textbook on speech—”

Nick interrupted her with a loud groan. “You know, it’s sad, Jinxie. We used to have so much to talk about, but you’ve changed. You’re so...” He seemed to look for the right word. “Suburban.”

Laura laughed, because Nick had clearly wanted her to do the opposite. “I am suburban. I wanted my daughter to have a normal life.”

She waited for him to correct her about who Andy belonged to, but Nick said, “Sounds fascinating.”

“It is, actually.”

“Married a black fella, too. How cosmopolitan of you.”

Black fella.

About a million years ago, Agent Danberry had used the same words to describe Donald DeFreeze.

Nick said, “You got a divorce. What happened, Jinx? Did he cheat on you? Did you cheat on him? You always had a wandering eye.”

“I didn’t know what I had,” she said, keenly aware of her audience in the distant room. “I thought that being in love meant being on pins and needles all of the time. Passion and fury and arguing and making up.”

“But it’s not?”

She shook her head, because she had learned at least one thing from Gordon. “It’s taking out the trash and saving up for vacations. Making sure the school forms are signed. Remembering to bring home milk.”

“Is that really how you feel, Jinx Queller? You don’t miss the excitement? The thrill? The fucking the shit out of each other?”

Laura tried to keep the blush off her face. “Love doesn’t keep you in a constant state of turmoil. It gives you peace.”

He pressed his forehead to the table and pretended to snore.

She laughed, though she didn’t want to.

Nick opened one eye, smiled up at her. “I’ve missed that sound.”

Laura looked over his shoulder at the piano.

“I heard you had breast cancer.”

She shook her head. She wasn’t going to talk to him about that.

He said, “I can remember what it felt like to put my mouth on your breasts. The way you used to moan and squirm when I licked between your legs. Do you ever think about that, Jinx? How good we were together?”

Laura stared at him. She wasn’t worried about Andy anymore. Nick’s fatal flaw had reared its ugly head. He always overplayed his hand.

She asked, “How do you live with it?”

He raised an eyebrow. She had piqued his interest again.

“The guilt?” she asked. “For killing people. For putting it all into motion.”

“People?” he asked, because the jury had been divided over his part in the Chicago bombing. “You tell me, darling. Jonah Helsinger? Was that his name?” He waited for Laura to nod. “Ripped out his throat, though they blur that part on TV.”

She chewed the inside of her cheek.

“How do you live with it? How do you feel about murdering that boy?”

Laura let a tiny part of her brain think about what she had done. It was hard—for so long she had managed to face each day by discarding the day before. “Do you remember the look on Laura Juneau’s face? When we were in Oslo?”

Nick nodded, and she marveled at the fact that he was the only person left alive with whom she could talk about one of the most pivotal moments of her life.