Chapter 5 - THE MAN WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD
Nora didn’t open the door.
She turned off her television, backed into her kitchen, and called police from a second phone.
By the time officers reached her building, the hallway was empty.
An hour later, Brooks brought her to a hotel room booked under arrangements Celeste hadn’t asked about.
Nora entered carrying a backpack and a paper bag.
“I saved the soup,” she said.
Celeste almost laughed.
Then Nora put the bag down and hugged her.
That was what broke her.
Not the gown.
Not the ballroom.
Not even the ruined apartment.
Someone holding her without asking her to explain.
When she finally stepped back, Nora wiped her own face.
“For the record, your family has always sucked.”
“Subtle.”
“I’m growing.”
Brooks accepted the copied files and documented where they had come from. Nora walked her through what she had recovered and what remained damaged.
Nobody promised a miracle.
Celeste appreciated that.
At midnight, Reed knocked.
Someone stood behind him.
Tall. Dark hair. A slight limp.
Celeste knew the face immediately, even with eleven years added to it.
“Ben?”
He nodded.
For a moment, neither moved.
Then he said, “You told me to stop apologizing.”
Her throat tightened.
“You were bleeding on my uniform.”
“You said it was government property and you’d bill me.”
A broken laugh escaped her.
Ben crossed the room.
This time, when someone reached for her, she didn’t step away.
He held her carefully.
“I thought you were dead,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“My father said—”
“I know.”
They sat near the window while the others gave them room.
Ben told her about surgeries, rehabilitation, leaving the Navy, learning to sleep without checking every doorway.
Celeste told him about the little emergency-planning office she ran now, the apartment, the garden she kept killing.
Ordinary things.
Proof that both of them had kept living.
Finally, Ben reached into his jacket.
“I kept this.”
A folded photograph.
Six people outside Station Nine.
Celeste stood at one end, squinting into the sun. Ben was beside her. Between them was Chief Mara Ellis, one hand raised against the camera.
Mara had not come home.
Celeste touched the photograph.
Ben looked toward Brooks.
“There’s something I couldn’t tell investigators back then. I was too medicated to trust it.”
“What?” Celeste asked.
“I saw the service gate open before the attack.”
Her hand stopped.
“Who opened it?”
May you like
Ben swallowed.
“A man wearing your father’s company badge.”
