I liked the idea of him feeling watched. Of getting back to his office and wondering who was after him.

AS SOON AS I got out of the Pear Magic lot, I pulled off the bandanna and shook my hair out. At the first stoplight, I untied and shimmied out of my apron. I tossed them both into the backseat and stuck the journal in the glove box.

I didn’t know what I had—if I had anything at all—but I felt like I had made maybe the tiniest bit of progress. Who knew—maybe I would find something in the journal that would open Dad’s locked box. It was such a long shot it was basically impossible, but if I didn’t stay optimistic, I would never get anywhere, right? I called Chris’s phone twice more, to no answer, and when I buzzed past his gym, I could see why. His car was there, so he was likely inside, working out. I swung into the lot and parked.

Chris was doing sit-ups on a mat in the corner, sweating so hard his head was leaving a wet, circular blotch on the mat. I walked past the front desk like I owned the place, grabbed a light medicine ball off a shelf, and waited for him to pull himself upright. When he did, I tossed the ball.

“Shit!” He caught the ball half an inch before it hit his face, and held it in the curve of his stomach. “What the hell?”

“I can see your reflexes are still in working order,” I said. “A little sluggish, but . . .” I shrugged sarcastically.

“And what if they weren’t?”

“You’d have a broken nose right now, I guess.”

“Real sensitive, Nikki.” He tossed the ball back at me and lowered himself back to the mat. “You know”—he sat up and went back down again—“you are always”—up, down—“everywhere I don’t”—up, down—“want you to be.”

This time when he sat up, I threw the ball again. He caught it much quicker. “Your throw’s a little sluggish, but . . .” He shrugged and lobbed it to me, then went back to his sit-ups. “To what . . . do I owe the . . . extreme pleasure . . . of having you in my gym?” He sat up and let his arms rest on his knees, his hands dangling between his legs. “On a day when I thought I made it pretty clear I didn’t want to be bothered.”

I shifted the ball to my hip, holding it there with my forearm. “So now I’m a bother?” I acted like he was being ridiculous, but the truth was his words stung a little. Since when did he want to avoid me? Usually I was the one trying to avoid him.