“No. I’m not sure that I even gave him a haircut. He wanted to look at some style catalogs. We were talking and then…I don’t know.”

“Do you remember his name?”

“Kevin. I wrote it down in my appointment book. Kevin. I’m sure of that. And…” Sadie stared hard at the wall. “I think I’ve seen him before, like we’d met, but I can’t…”

“His name is Kevin, though? Do you remember what he looks like?”

“My age, I suppose. Kind of chunky in the middle, light-brown hair, and…he was wearing…I think he had on a sweatshirt…a hoodie. That’s all I can remember.”

“Do you remember what he drove to his appointment?”

“No.”

“You said he looked familiar. Think about the places you frequent—restaurants, night clubs, gyms—is it possible you know him from a place like that?”

Sadie closed her eyes, but then opened them again and shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay.” Niki patted Sadie’s arm. “Sometimes a memory can get blocked if you try too hard. Just take it nice and slow.”

Sadie closed her eyes again as if searching, but then opened them and said, “Nice.” She said the word slowly, as if she were saying it for the first time.

Niki waited for her to continue, and when she didn’t, she asked, “Are you—?”

Sadie held up her hand to stop Niki from talking, her eyes burrowing deep into an empty space on the wall in front of her. Then Sadie whispered the word again to herself. “Nice.”

Sadie still had her hand raised, so Niki looked at Matty, who shrugged. Sadie’s face wore a look of intense concentration verging on fear. Then she said, “He said…‘nice.’”

“Who said ‘nice’?”

“The guy—Kevin. He said…” She closed her eyes again and fought to remember. “He was standing in front of me…I was sitting…in the grass…and he said, ‘All you had to do was be nice.’”

Niki repeated the words. “All you had to do was be nice.”

“Yeah, but…he had a lisp.” Sadie slowly repeated the line, but muddled the letter S. “All you had to do wasch be nische.” Sadie’s eyes grew big and her breath caught. “I think…I know who Kevin is.”

Chapter 13

Gavin sat in his basement, in the very room where he had brought Sadie the night before, and pondered the myriad paths that might bring detectives to his door. There were so many variables, any one of which could change everything, and the prospect of accounting for each contingency filled Gavin with a sense of purpose. He tapped a nervous finger on the side of his temple as he shuffled through possibilities, narrowing them down to the most likely scenario.

Sadie would remember the man who came in for a last-minute haircut. She would give a detective the name Kevin, as it appeared in her appointment book. But would Sadie connect Kevin from the salon to Kevin the Picture Boy? Gavin had seen no sign of recognition as she’d prattled on about hair products and new styles. He’d managed to hide his lisp the entire time. Still, if detectives showed up at his door, he had to assume that Sadie had made the connection to the wedding.