“Someone left this under my windshield wiper,” I said, handing her the brown envelope. “Was it you?”

Fanny shook her head, took the envelope, and weighed it, seemingly in no hurry to open it, as though she already knew what was inside. A minute earlier, her eyes had flashed green; now they were gray and mournful.

“Did you take those pictures, Fanny?”

She extracted the photographs from the cardboard sleeve. She looked down, glanced at the first two snaps, then handed them back to me.

“You know what you should do, Thomas? Get on a plane back to New York.”

“Answer the question. You did take those photos, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I did. Twenty-five years ago.”

“Why?”

“Because Vinca asked me to.” She tugged at the neck of her scrubs and rubbed her eyes. “I know it was all a long time ago.” She sighed. “But your memories of that time are very different from mine.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You need to face the truth, Thomas. Sometime in late ’92, Vinca completely lost it. She was out of control; she was in free fall. You have to remember, this was the beginning of all-night raves—the whole school was tripping on something. And Vinca didn’t mind getting stoned out of her mind.”

I thought back to the stash of tranquilizers, sleeping pills, ecstasy, and speed I’d seen in Vinca’s bathroom cabinet.

“One night in October or November, Vinca showed up at my door. She told me she was screwing your father and she asked me to follow them and take pictures. She—”

The receptionist interrupted her confession. “Here’s your bag!” Debbie called.

Fanny thanked her, took out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, and set the handbag on the hood. It was woven leather, white and tan, and the onyx eyes of its snake-head clasp looked menacing.

“What did Vinca want to do with the photos?”

Fanny lit a cigarette and shrugged. “My guess is she planned to blackmail your father. Have you asked him about it?”

“Not yet.” I could feel rage and disappointment welling up in me. “How could you go along with something like that, Fanny?”

She shook her head and took a long drag. Her eyes were misted with tears. She half closed them, as though fighting the urge to cry, but I did not let up.

“How could you do that to me?”

I had shouted this at her, but she jumped down from the hood, faced me, and shouted even louder.

“Because I was in love with you, okay?”

Her bag had fallen to the ground. Eyes blazing with anger, Fanny pushed me hard. “I’ve always been in love with you, Thomas, always! And you used to love me before Vinca came along and fucked things up.”

She punched me in the chest.