"My place or yours?" I ask Ava.
"Yours. It's closer." She tugs at the zipper on her bag until it's closed, then flops onto the bed and closes her eyes.
I open the Uber app on my phone to request a ride. "Five minutes," I tell her. "We should head down to the lobby."
Ava rolls her head to the side and opens one eye to look at me. "Thank you for taking me home with you. The thought of being alone at my place right now is still a lot."
"Same here."
She eases herself off the bed, and both of us collect our things. We don't say much as we leave the hotel, or during our ride to my condo. Ava mostly stares out the window, her eyes hidden by her sunglasses, and I pretend to be absorbed by the latest news article about Nash's arrest on my phone. The words swim in front of my eyes, though, so I tap out of the app and open my text messages in case I've missed notifications. I haven't. There's been nothing else from Phoenix since his reply about the security he hired to protect us.
"Stop. You'll make yourself crazy." Ava reaches across the seat and gently pries my phone from my hand. "He'll call or text you when he can."
"Should he, though?"
"Yes, he should. You aren't the only one who's made mistakes in your relationship, and you need to remember that. He planted and watered the seeds of mistrust. Your reaction was based on what you knew at the time." She tucks the phone in her purse, then slumps against the seat and pinches the bridge of her nose.
"Are you holding up okay?"
She drops her hand and shrugs. "I have a headache and my brain won't turn off. It feels like someone poured ten cans of energy drinks into it, but the rest of me is sinking in quicksand."
Mentally wired but energetically sinking reflects my own current state. So does the brewing head pain. "Do you want something for the headache?"
"I took ibuprofen before we left the hotel. I would like to lie down in your guest room when we get to your place, though. A dark room might help."
"Of course."
We lapse back into silence for the rest of the drive. Once we're in my condo, locked away from the outside world, Ava hugs me, hands me my phone, and then beelines for my guest room. There still aren't any text or call notifications on my phone, so I put it on the table beside the door and grab an unopened bottle of water from my bag. Like Ava, I'm also ready for a nap, but stretching out on the sofa wins over the effort of dragging myself to my bedroom. There's a blanket out here, and a throw pillow will do for resting my head.
I must fall asleep instantly, because the next thing I hear is a knock at my door, and then I'm struggling to open my eyes. My phone is where I left it, so I don't know what time it is or how long I dozed off for. With bleary vision and a fuzzy head, I get up from my sofa and stumble to the door.
A quick peek through the door's peephole only shows me flower petals, which block the person holding them from my sight. Why would someone send me flowers on a random Monday, or at all at this point? They must be for a neighbor who isn't home.
"Just a second." I comb my fingers through my hair in case my nap resulted in bedhead, then unlock the deadbolt.
The person holding the bouquet lowers it when I crack open the door. Phoenix's face comes into view.
"Peace offering?" He holds the bouquet out to me.
My hand shoots out to grip the doorframe. Am I actually awake right now, or is this part of a dream? I let this man know I thought he was a murderer yesterday, and now he's at my door with flowers?
It's too much for me to look Phoenix in the eyes, so I stare at the bouquet instead. A core memory surfaces at the sight of the orange and rose lilies, mixed with peach carnations and baby's breath. It looks like the first floral arrangement he ever brought me, eight years ago.
"Thank you. Is this the same as...?" My brain-to-voice connection sputters out so I tilt my head up and search his face instead. The softness in his eyes tells me he knows what I'm asking.
"It is, or as close as the florist could get it."
Guilt is likely the last thing he wants me to feel, but holy hell. I'm brimming with it now.
"Is it okay if I come in?" he asks.
Right. He's still standing in the hallway, and I'm still fixated on these flowers and the symbolism and how much I want to fall right through the floor.
"I'm sorry, I just woke up. Please come in."
"You have nothing to apologize for." There's the briefest touch of his hand against my shoulder and then it's gone, as if he wants to respect any physical boundaries I might have after what happened yesterday. This man. What was I thinking?
"I have everything to apologize for. I didn't even give you a chance to explain when I accused you of--" I don't complete the sentence, because I don't want to say it.
"You had excellent reasons not to. I understand that."
"How, though? How are you here right now, with flowers, telling me you understand how I could think you were capable of one of the most horrible things a person can do?"
"Because I played a part in that." He gestures at the sofa. "May we sit?"
"Yes." I put the bouquet on the table, next to my phone, then cross the room to the sofa.
Phoenix waits for me to sit first, then takes a seat next to me. The gap he leaves between us shows he's still being cautious and giving me space.
"I knew I destroyed your trust years ago, but I didn't understand how deep that went until the last couple of days. That's on me. Trust is earned, and a few weekends together rightfully couldn't earn that back in full. I don't blame you for thinking what you did. It kept me awake some nights because I couldn't tell you everything."
He starts to reach his arm out to me, but then catches himself and rubs his cheek instead. How have we gone from candlelight dances and the most intimate acts, to second-guessing physical touch? This is misery.
"You could have, you know." I clasp my hands together to also keep from reaching out to him. "I wouldn't have told anyone, and it kills me that you felt like you couldn't confide in me and had to deal with everything on your own while pretending you were fine. Yesterday aside, when have I ever done something to destroy your trust in me?"
My question must land like a knife to Phoenix's heart, because he flinches. What I asked is fair, though. For all the guilt I might feel about what I suspected him of, the situation we're in now could have been avoided.
"I would trust you with my life. That wasn't it."
"Then tell me what stopped you from saying something, because I don't understand."
He twists a silver ring on one of his fingers. His chest rises and falls, then rises and falls again, keeping pace with my own breathing. It may be the only thing in sync between the two of us right now.
"I didn't want you to worry about Ava's safety, and the same thing with Torin. I know you wouldn't have said a word to either of them, but I also know your heart. You would have blamed yourself if something had happened to either of them and you hadn't warned them. I also couldn't risk putting you in harm's way if Nash had detected even the slightest change in your energy when he was around. You didn't ask to get caught up in all of this, and I didn't want you to be. I thought I was doing the right thing. I was wrong."
There's a saying about how the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Never before in my life has it made more sense than now. I also can't argue with his reasons, because he's correct. I would have been out of my mind about Ava spending time alone with Nash, and I would have been equally as concerned about Torin. What a mess.
"You weren't wrong. It sucks that it led to this, but it helps to know."
I unclasp my hands and roll my shoulders, moving my head from side to side and stretching my neck as I do. Less than forty-eight hours ago, Phoenix would have taken it as a cue to massage my shoulders and neck. Now, though, he's still twisting his ring and staring at his hands. Every second of silence is like a thousand tiny paper cuts to my soul.
"How long did you know Nash was a suspect?"
Can he tell me this before it comes out in Nash's trial? I don't know, but he needs to say something before the quiet bleeds me dry.
"Since before he moved to Vegas." His voice is dull and thick with something I can't pinpoint.
"Can you tell me how you knew and got involved?"
He nods and stops playing with his ring. "Where would you like me to start?"
"Where it makes sense to, I guess. I only know what was in the news, and there wasn't anything about you or Nash, or even about her ex-fiancé. I've watched enough true crime to know it's usually the ex under suspicion."
"Matt had an alibi. He was in Ohio visiting his family, and neighbors of his parents had recordings from their home security camera of him taking the family dog for a walk every afternoon. He was also on video at different stores there starting before Len's last sighting, and during the days he said he was out of town."
"Where did Nash say he was?" I reach for the bottle of water that's been on the table since before I fell asleep. My mouth is dry, even though I'm not the one doing most of the talking.
"He never told me. We weren't close at the time, but he joined a search party Len's family organized to scour her favorite hiking spot. He seemed pretty upset that she was missing, and I assumed he'd also been cleared." He stops. His Adam's apple bobs.
"Water?" I offer, holding out the bottle.
"Please."
His fingers brush over mine when he takes it from me. Something in our accidental touch makes me want to clutch his hand and never let go, but I don't have the courage to be the one to do it. Not yet. Why is this so hard?
Phoenix puts the cap back on the water and hands it back to me. Our fingers don't touch this time.
"I was surprised when a homicide detective called me a couple of days after the hiking spot search and brought up Nash's name. The detective knew I was professional actor, and he had an unusual request. Long story short, I agreed to try to become closer friends with Nash and to keep an eye on him while watching out for certain things. The detective thought my acting background could help me be convincing. The gun you found under my bed was one issued to me that I was taught how to use, in case Nash suspected what I was doing and came after me. I kept it close to where I slept, just in case. There's another one at the house in Vegas."
The gun I found was for self-defense, not murder. Why didn't I consider that? Even if I didn't know what was going on with Nash and the investigation, Phoenix was prominently in the public eye after we ended things the first time and could have received threats or even had a stalker. It should have been one of the first things I considered, but I didn't.
It was hidden under a floorboard, though. Is it fair to beat myself up for the path my discovery sent me down? Probably not. Ava didn't question what I assumed, and even Phoenix said he understood why I concluded what I did. It's better-informed hindsight and my old habit of self-blame trying to make me spiral, and now isn't the time for it. Not when there's a lot more still to learn.
"Did Nash ever seem like he was catching on?" I ask.
"No. He didn't think me reaching out to him was odd, because I was a friend of Len's and he and I had already met a few times. We became better friends, and I was also his driver for when he wanted to party, because of my sobriety. That meant I was with him during times he had a few drinks and let down his guard. Over time, he talked to me about out-of-the-way places in the Mojave Desert that he thought were scenic drives, and I shared those locations with investigators in case they turned up something."
"Is that what broke the case?"
"Not at first. The turning point was when Nash asked me to go with him to meet a guy interested in buying a car he'd listed for sale. There was something in the news around that time about someone who was robbed after setting up a similar meeting to sell a van, so he wanted to be safe. I didn't know he had another car. He told me it belonged to his brother and was still registered in his brother's name in another state, since his brother had taken a cruise ship job and had asked Nash to store it for him. He said his brother decided to sell it. When investigators used the info I gave them to track down the car after it was sold, they found Len's DNA in the trunk."
My hands flutter up to my mouth. "Oh my God. He had her in the trunk?"
"That's what the prosecution will try to prove. When Len's DNA was found in the trunk, there still wasn't a body to confirm she had died. Investigators continued combing through the routes in the desert Nash told me about. One finally turned up a discarded shovel that looked like a shovel Nash was captured on camera purchasing from a hardware store the same day Len was last seen. They also found remnants of trash bags that had drops of Len's blood. That's what the break in the case was that we heard about last weekend, and I hadn't been made aware yet. They thought they were close to finding her body. The morning after you left Vegas, I went with them into the desert, to help them look for landmarks Nash had described to me in case it could help with the search. They found bones and a skull while we were out there. I had a feeling it was her, but they had to confirm it with dental records."
"You saw her body?" Whatever kept me from touching him before flies out the window now when I instinctively reach for his hand.
"Yeah. Well, her skeletal reminds." He presses his lips together and shuts his eyes. There's a tremor in his fingers.
I can't even fathom what he went through that day. While I was safe and comfortable at home, irritated that I hadn't heard from him, he was out in the middle of the sweltering desert, watching people dig up the bones of his friend. I don't know if he senses what I'm thinking, or if he simply appreciates my hold on his hand, because he reaches over and puts his other hand on top of mine.
When the trembling in his fingers stops, I feel safe asking another question. "Do you know why Nash killed her?"
"I do, and it's why I was concerned about Ava."
༺â༻ ༺â༻ ༺â༻
I don't really have an author's note for this chapter, other than to check in on everyone again and ask how you're holding up with all this information about Nash?
Would you be as forgiving as Phoenix is right now? Or is Del being too hard on herself?