“And the beer bellies.”

“And the TV trays.”

“Hey, JD?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever think about what a miracle it is that we started talking to one another? I mean, it’s such a huge coincidence that the random letters I assigned to your contact happened to be next to my sister’s in my phone. And that I never got around to changing it to your real name. And that when I messaged, you had nothing else to do but answer me. And that we both don’t sleep well. And we both like reality television. And we’re both willing to talk to one another for hours until we fall asleep almost every night. Do you ever think about that? What a miracle it is?”

“Eliot?”

“Yeah?”

“I think about it all the time.”

Chapter Fifteen

Eliot

The next morning I swing by my local police precinct. Unfortunately, over the last two months, this has become a habit for me. Gloria, the receptionist, knows me by name now. I step into the main lobby and her face falls when she sees me, and correspondingly so does my stomach. Because that means that they’ve made no progress on my case. If they’d made progress, she would have lit up. She buzzes back for the detective assigned to my case and a few minutes later, Detective Cabela emerges from the back hallway, her hands tucked into her trousers and her badge on a chain around her neck.

She has a glum expression on her face and just a touch of a flush in her brown skin. Her dark hair is braided back today and she looks pretty. If she didn’t sort of represent one of the worst nights of my life, I might have asked her out when we first met.

“Hi there, Mr. Hoffman.”

“Detective.”

She knows exactly why I’m there and she doesn’t waste either of our time. That’s one of the reasons I like her. She’s got a real down-to-business vibe. “I’m sorry to tell you that we haven’t made any progress on your case.”

I sigh and look down. It’s not a surprise to me. My case was nonviolent, had only my eyewitness account, and very few other leads. It’s small potatoes and pretty much only important to me. But as someone who hasn’t gotten a good night’s sleep since it happened, I’ve been kind of clinging to the hope that apprehending the guy who did it might provide me with a little peace of mind.

“I figured,” I tell her. “Just thought I’d check in.”

“You know,” she says with a cock of her head, “you could always just call me to check in on the status of the investigation.”

“I know. I was just passing by anyhow.”

Her eyes are kind with understanding. “And you don’t want me forgetting about you.”