Reaching for the handle, Shaw splashed water across the floor of the tub. Rust swirled around the drain before the water carried it away, and Shaw froze, fingers tight around the chrome handle, as a piece of the puzzle clicked into place.

The color of the bricks on the back wall of Hog Hollow Hocks. Matty asking Shaw to check his apartment to make sure it was safe. Matty’s video call, a brick wall behind him. Matty calling for help a few hours later. Shaw’s vivid, visceral certainty that he had known Matty’s whereabouts the same night Mark was killed because, of course, Matty had made sure Shaw knew where he was. And then Shaw eating ribs behind Hog Hollow Hocks, staring at the bricks under the security light, the tickle in his mind that they were familiar for some reason. Then more: Regina Rex’s fake breasts. Pari’s note about the Sino-Soviet split. And the final flare, burning like a trail of fireworks above the Arch, as Regina’s voice echoed through the Lucky’s darkened theater: You’ve got something that belongs to me.

How much time had passed? Shaw’s fingers were stiff around the chrome handle, and his whole body was rigid, joints locked with the shock of revelation. Hot water pounded his chest, wreathed his thighs, trickled down his calves.

He needed to get to his phone. That was the clearest thought. After that, Shaw wasn’t sure what he would do. Call North first. That seemed right. Call Jadon Reck immediately after. He left the water running and inched back the curtain, wincing every time one of the rings chimed against the rod, praying that Matty would have gone to the living room for a drink or to stretch his legs or to look for another book. And if he hadn’t, a part of Shaw’s brain queried. If he hadn’t gone to stretch his legs or pour himself a drink or look for a book? What was Shaw supposed to do?

Smile, Shaw told himself as he dragged the shower curtain another painfully slow inch. Kiss him. Ask him about himself. Do all the stupid things you’re supposed to do on a date. And the whole time, keep moving, keep circling, keep getting closer to your phone until you have a shot, a real shot at grabbing the phone and barricading yourself in the office. The details of the plan were hazy. Shaw’s joints, no longer locked, seemed too loose now, and he felt like pieces of himself might come off, tearing away like his tendons and ligaments had all the strength of wet newsprint.

Slipping out of the shower, water pouring off him, Shaw steadied himself on the bath mat and then froze.

Matty stood in the doorway, a knife in one hand, rope in the other. He was smiling.

“Hi, babe,” he said. “Forget something?”

Chapter 34

Shaw stared at Matty, but all he really saw was the knife.

“Soap,” Shaw said. “Just had to grab some—”

“That’s ok,” Matty said. “I was going to get you out of the shower anyway. Come on. Let’s have a talk.” He tossed the rope at Shaw, and Shaw caught it out of instinct. “Tie that around your wrist. Good. No granny knots, you can do better than that. Ok. Now. Hands behind your back, loop it around your other wrist. Show me. Good boy.”