Gabriel is the easiest man to read that I’ve ever known. It’s as if he can easily detect deceit in others but hasn’t the first clue how to pull it off himself. I’ve never seen a false emotion come out of him. When I first complimented him on his authenticity, he deflected, telling me that if he was truly out to be a master prevaricator that was exactly how he’d seem.

“Thanks. I almost turned her down. I was worried that it’s too soon after Lauren.”

“I’m glad you said yes. You worked hard for this.”

I climb into bed. When he comes closer to kiss me, I realize that he’s not wearing his boxers.

He leans over and kisses me deeply. Part of me wants to pull away. Since Lauren’s murder, I’ve felt guilty experiencing pleasure, which put an end to our streak of lovemaking. But I want this now—to be swept away from my grief—if only for a short while.

23. DANA GOODWIN

23.

DANA GOODWIN

Gabriel arrives at my office at nine sharp. This is the first time I’ve hosted, as we’ve previously met at One PP. The reason he’s here is because the first item on our agenda today is to tell Drake McKenney that we consider him a suspect in Lauren Wright’s murder.

With an outstretched arm, I invite Gabriel to take a seat at the small table I use for in-office meetings, but he must not catch the cue. He moves toward the collection of Jacob’s drawings I have taped on the wall next to the window. The largest of them depicts three semi-stick figures, none of which have feet or hands. It’s our family. I’m in the middle, drawn the tallest even though Stuart’s got me by a couple of inches.

“Is that your son’s masterpiece?” he asks.

“Yes. I also have a photograph if you want a more accurate representation.” I make my way back over to the desk and grab a silver frame that I keep angled away from guests. “This was taken last year, I think. That’s Stuart, who you met at the funeral, and our son, Jacob. He’s in kindergarten now.”

“Does your boy like Batman?”

At first I think Gabriel must be psychic, but then I remember that, in the photo, Jacob is wearing his Batman shirt, complete with cape.

“If it has the suffix ‘man,’ he’s obsessed. Spiderman, Batman, Superman, Ironman. At the kindergarten Halloween parade at their school, there were twenty-five superheroes and twenty-five princesses. Everyone gushes about how cute they all are—and don’t get me wrong, they’re friggin’ adorable—but nobody ever asks, ‘What’s wrong with this picture?’”

“And here I was just making random conversation,” Gabriel says with a smile. “Didn’t mean to hit a nerve.”

I can’t help but smile back. “Sorry.”