“Mitchell knew and trusted his abductor—”

“No. Not necessarily. It seemed like that in the shock of seeing the apartment, but I don’t agree. Not anymore. There are a lot of ways the Keeper could have gotten past that security. He might have presented himself as law enforcement. He might have shown up as a repairman.”

“Mitchell’s not stupid.”

“I’m just saying there are other ways, Ree. And even if Mitchell did know him, it doesn’t necessarily mean Susan did too. Mitchell might have met this guy at the Pretty Pretty. He might have met him online.”

Hazard raised those remarkable eyes, the color of straw at the end of harvest, and said, “Then why Susan?”

“She has a connection to you.”

Hazard flinched.

“I’m not trying to hurt you, sweetheart, but we already assumed that was the Keeper’s MO.”

Nodding, Hazard turned and moved into the bathroom.

“Ree, hold on. I’m not trying to argue with you. I’m just pointing out that . . . that we shouldn’t leap to conclusions. There’s no reason to believe Wesley did this. No rational reason, I mean. And—hey, hold on, please. I’m talking to you.”

“I hear you,” Hazard said, opening the mirrored medicine cabinet with gloved hands. “I don’t have to stand around like a fucking statue to hear you.”

“Stop, please. I need to keep the scene sealed until we can process it properly. You know that.”

“I am processing it.”

“You’re not police.”

The words came out louder and harsher than Somers intended them. The echo ran through the small apartment. Hazard froze for a moment. Then he started up again, like someone had pressed rewind, his hands lifting and setting back bottles and boxes and various toiletries: a woman’s razor laid upside down; a tube of Crest whitening toothpaste; a dropper bottle with eucalyptus oil; a tub of cold cream; brown prescription bottles. Hazard returned these with neat, economical movements.

“I know I shouldn’t have said it like that,” Somers said.

“Why not?” He slid the bottles along the shelf, reading each one and then moving it into a neat line with the ones he’d already checked.

“I don’t want to hurt your feelings—”

Hazard laughed. “We’re not at a fucking slumber party, thanks.”

“Please don’t do this.”

At the next bottle, Hazard’s hand hesitated. “Do what?”

“I can’t do this again with you. I can’t. It hurts too much, and I honestly don’t know what to do.”

Hazard plucked the bottle from the shelf and held it out to Somers. His eyes were wide and bright, glassy and hard. “If there’s a problem, John, you just need to tell me what it is. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Here’s a possible answer, by the way. Lunesta. She was taking a sleep aid; no wonder she didn’t hear him. Maybe you’re right. Maybe he just broke in. Good job on that.”

“Stop it.”

Again, louder than Somers had intended. This time, Hazard flinched.

“Somers?” Dulac’s voice came from the front of the apartment. He stopped in the bathroom doorway; his eyes were carefully fixed on Somers, ignoring Hazard. “Hey, I talked to one of the neighbors. She says she saw a bug guy spraying out here last night. She said she’s been calling for a bug guy for months, and they sent him here instead of to her unit. She went over and talked to him, tried to get him to service her apartment. I asked for a description, but she said she couldn’t see him very well; he was in a full-body suit. She kept calling it a space suit.”