Yet sleep didn’t come. I kept thinking about Tom, about him being at the funeral, about him specifically not coming over to speak with me. Why hadn’t he? I had always told myself we had never met because we were so busy, because we were never in the same place at the same time. But this time there was no excuse. Why had he avoided me? Was it because he was there with another woman? If so, why should that matter?

After tossing and turning for half an hour, I finally got up and got my cell phone. If he was home, he would still be up, probably hacking away at his computer. I climbed back under the covers and dialed, half hoping he wouldn’t pick up the phone.

“Hello?” he said, his voice as warm and smooth as always. I tried to bring up the image I had created of his face, but it wouldn’t come. Instead, all I saw were the backs of dark-suited people, sitting in a row at a funeral.

“Hey,” I said, my voice soft.

“Callie!” he replied, pleasure tingeing his voice. “I was hoping this would be you. You’ve been on my mind all evening. I wondered how things are coming along with the investigation and if there’s anything I can do to help.”

I closed my eyes, wishing I could see through the phone, wishing I could see right now where Tom was and what he was doing.

“Getting closer,” I said. “But that’s not why I called.”

“Oh?”

“I just had a little talk with Marion. From what I understand, you were there today. At the funeral.”

There was a moment’s pause, and then a quiet answer: “Yes.”

I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t even sure how to ask it or if my question was even appropriate for our relationship. We were boss and employee, of course, but we were also something more. I thought we were something more anyway, something noble and special, the two of us in a fight to make the world a better place through his foundation. Our foundation.

“Why didn’t you speak to me?” I asked finally. He didn’t answer right away. I could hear him exhale slowly, and I imagined him leaning forward in his chair, maybe rubbing a hand over his forehead. Finally, when he did speak, his voice was soft and intimate.

“I was going to,” he said. “I really was. I was going to surprise you and tell you it was me, and finally we were going to meet face-to-face.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No,” he said. “I didn’t.”

I closed my eyes, wondering why they had suddenly filled with tears. I just felt so sad. So sad and so very, very alone.