Mary lowered her window, let in another lovely day in the high sixties. “What is it now—noon?”

“Almost.”

“Have you been able to open the folder again?”

So much for the good world. “Not by myself, but yes.”

“Do you want to—”

“Not right now.” Caitlin reached for a pack of gum she’d set in the center console, unwrapped a piece. Maybe if she looked busy, Mary would drop the subject.

“Okay, Caitie. Just so you know, I’m here for whatever you need.”

Caitlin popped the gum in her mouth and turned toward Frodo’s apartment. Anytime, kid.

“Unless you don’t want to talk to me about it?”

Caitlin sighed. “Why would I not want to talk to you about it, Lubbers?”

“I don’t know.” Mary ran her finger along the windowsill. “Did I … do something?”

Besides introduce me to Troy Woods? Caitlin pushed the thought away. “No, but it’s hard for me to talk about and—”

Mary opened her hands. “Let’s talk about that.”

“—and I’ve been able to talk about a little bit, a very, small bit, with Scott Canton.”

“Your old professor? As in the poetry department?”

The mint flavor of Caitlin’s gum now tasted acidic. She took the piece out of her mouth and looked for a scrap of paper. “Also a trained psychologist, Mary.”

Without a word, Mary pulled a wadded napkin out of the fast food bag and handed it over. “But I’m your friend. I used to be your best friend, and you were mine. You were supposed to be my maid of honor.”

Caitlin pressed the gum into the napkin and threw it in the backseat. “What are you talking about?”

Mary shook her head. “I’m sorry. I know this is awful. I know you were raped. I get it now. You’re the victim here, not me.”

Caitlin faced her eye to eye, maybe for the first time that morning. “What are you upset about?”

“I know that now, Caitie. Twenty years later. But then, my best friend in the world disappeared without so much as a goodbye.”

“Okay, I was—”

“It’s not like I didn’t make myself available. Emails, phone calls, Christmas cards.”

“I got the cards, Mary. I loved the cards.”

“That’s great. I’m glad.” Mary sniffed tears. “But no matter how much time went by, you didn’t call me.”

Caitlin gripped the steering wheel. “It’s not like I talked to anyone else. I buried myself in my work. Shit, it took two years to have sex again.”

Tears wanted out. Wadded up napkins wouldn’t do the job this time.

She reached for her bag in the backseat, grabbed a pack of travel tissues. She handed Mary a Kleenex, got another for herself.