“I remember. It was like he vanished. We knew he hadn’t, though.”

“So many cases went cold,” I say, recalling them all. All the faces of the deceased. It helps that Jill Tucker from the local eleven o’clock news happened to list them all not too long ago.

“We didn’t have the evidence we needed.” Cody gives the same excuse the DA gave. Evidence. It doesn’t matter what happened. All that matters is what we can prove.

“We knew, though,” he says.

“Yeah … we knew.”

When did he start keeping secrets for Marcus? The question echoes in my mind. I wonder if it was then. I swear I felt someone watching me then. It had to have been Marcus.

“I know I asked you before …” I trail off as nerves creep up, weakening my voice and I wish I could take it back, but I can’t. Instead I clear my throat and reach for the dewy glass for a quick sip of water instead of coffee. The cold beads of condensation on the side of the glass make it slip in my unsteady grasp.

“I asked you if there was anything you knew about Marcus that I didn’t,” I remind him and my nails press into the pads of my fingers as I anxiously fidget under the table. Marcus said Cody keeps his secrets. What secrets would he keep from me? Are they about the case? Cases that may get me disbarred if that reporter has her way. Or is it all about his brother. “If there was anything at all that you knew.”

“You did,” he says and I can see there’s more on the tip of his tongue but he swallows it. It wouldn’t have been a revelation. Judging by the look of condemnation on his face, it was an accusation. Probably something to the effect of, after you searched through a box of my dead brother’s belongings. He wouldn’t do that to me, though. He wouldn’t throw it in my face. That’s not the kind of man Cody is.

I wish he would. I wish he’d give me a reason to throw the truth at him just the same.

“You’d tell me, wouldn’t you?” I ask him cautiously, reminding myself of the history we have together and the grace and protection he’s given me. “Even if you had secrets with Marcus?” My words are barely audible.

They hang in the space between us, joined by the flashes of memories that dance with shadows and illicit thoughts you’re only ever supposed to dream about, not live.

The waitress comes by with a smile but it vanishes when she pauses at our table, the tension palpable. “I’ll leave you to it,” she murmurs and taps the table. “If there’s anything you need, you just let me know.”

With nods from each of us, she’s gone.

“Even if you had secrets with Marcus, you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?” I question him again, unwilling to give it up, and his response determines my next move.