She nods without looking at me and lets this soak in, but then she says, “Yeah,” and her posture changes. She leans against the door again, crossing her arms this time. “So tell me something. How would you suggest I channel my integrity if someone were to ask me about those blood vials?”

“What are you talking about?”

“The vials of blood you drew from Nick over the weekend. If anyone were to ask if I ever saw the two of you together, for example, or whether he was here for an appointment, or whether or not you drew a whole lot of blood that never got sent to the lab—or if you let me lie about it to cover your tracks. For example. If someone comes asking those sorts of things, puts me in that position, how would you suggest I continue being true to myself? A nice girl who finishes first.”

“Come on, Simone.”

“The medical examiner’s office called this morning. Did you know that?”

“No.” I step toward her. She doesn’t cower. She doesn’t move away from the door like she ought to. “What did they want?”

“I don’t know. Haven’t called back yet. Guy named Walsh wants to talk to me though.”

“I’m sure he wanted to talk to me.”

“He asked for me by name.”

“Fine. Call him.”

“I will.”

I’d like to scream, What is it you want from me? while shaking her hard against the wall, but I’m not sure what’s happening here. “Well,” I manage, “maybe you don’t have to be so by-the-book if they ask those things.”

“No?”

“You can just keep that stuff between us, because even though there is nothing to hide, I’d forgotten about that appointment completely. Forgot to mention it to the first responders. It’s an irrelevant detail that would only complicate a simple tragedy. Nick needed a checkup, so I did him a favor. That’s all. If we give people a reason to overthink it, they will.”

“Oh yes. I imagine they will.”

“So you’ll keep that to yourself?”

“Sure.” With that, she stands tall, smiles, uncrosses her arms and becomes herself again. “I just wanted to be sure I understood what you meant when you assured me I’ll finish first. Whose integrity I’m protecting if I stay in the race. It’s much clearer now.” She smiles. “Don’t worry about a thing. Have I ever let you down?”

“Never,” I say.

“Then let’s keep this entire conversation between us.”

“That sounds great.”

“Excellent.” She glances at her watch. “Oh man. It’s almost eight. Better get to it.” She opens the door, and with the perkiest smile—the old Simone I know and love—says, “Why don’t you take care of that flower situation yourself.”

•  •  •