“Right.” He opened his mouth to go on, but before he could speak, the waitress returned, carrying Charlie’s napkin, along with their food. They were both silent as she placed it in front of them, and John smiled at her. “Thanks,” he said. Charlie stared at her plate: it was some kind of pasta. She took her fork carefully but didn’t start to eat.

“Can I ask you something?” John finally said, and she nodded eagerly, setting the fork back down. He took a deep breath.

“That night, how did you survive? I—There was so much blood …” He stopped, at a loss for words. Charlie looked at him, at the familiar face that had somehow turned against her. She had been trying to piece together a story for him, but now she just spoke.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I—There’s time missing, when I try to think about it my mind—flinches away, like it’s hit something sharp.” The distance in John’s eyes faded a little as she spoke. “I’d been in a suit before,” she went on. “I think I must have figured out how to get away somehow, or at least how to position myself.” She looked anxiously at him, and his gaze sharpened.

“I still don’t understand. How did you manage to get away … undamaged?” He looked her up and down again, seeming to examine her.

Charlie’s breath caught in her throat, and she turned away from him, staring fixedly out the window at the parking lot.

“I didn’t,” she said tightly.

*  *  *

John didn’t answer, searching Charlie’s half-turned face for a spark of something he could recognize—or not recognize. She was saying all the right things, in all the right ways, and her hints—more than hints—at the unshakable trauma she had gone through that night made his stomach clench. As she gazed off into the middle distance, her jaw was clenched; she looked like she was fighting something off, and John was seized with a sudden urge to go to her, to hold out his hand and offer his help. Instead he picked up his fork and began to eat, looking down at his plate instead of at her. She knows what I’m doing, he thought, chewing grimly. She’s giving me the right answers. Some detective I’ve turned out to be. John took another bite and stole a glance at her; she was still looking off at the parking lot. He swallowed and cleared his throat.