In her small bland office—so different from the chaotic botanical explosion of the waiting room—Finn sits on one end of the sofa while Caren sits on the other. Across from them, Tori sits in a desk chair, her body as rigid as humanly possible, as if relaxing even an inch might cause her to shatter.
“So, what do you want from me?” Tori asks.
“Do you recognize me?” Finn asks, leaning forward slightly. “I came by the house once last year to pick up Autumn.” His voice catches on her name, as it always does.
Tori’s face softens. “I recognize you. You were friends.”
“She was my best friend.” His voice is raw, the words inadequate to describe what Autumn had been to him—lifeline, confidante, the one person who saw him completely.
“I’m sorry about Autumn,” Tori says. “She was a lovely girl.” Her eyes drift to a point somewhere over his shoulder, unable to meet his gaze.
“She was more than that. She was family to me.”
“This must be really hard for you. You must miss her a lot.”
“Miss her?” he repeats incredulously. He had moments when he couldn’t catch a breath, suddenly remembering that Autumn was dead and not coming back. Some mornings he didn’t want to get out of bed, didn’t want to talk to anyone, see anyone. He could waste away an afternoon, sitting in a daze of grief that made him feel catatonic. “Yeah, I miss her every day.”
Caren reaches over and squeezes Finn’s hand, her touch warm and steady.
Tori reaches for a box of tissues from the coffee tablebetween them, and at first Finn thinks she is going to offer him one and readies hisno thanks, defenses rising. But then she takes a tissue out and dabs her own eyes, surprising him. “It’s awful. I think about her all the time too. I feel so guilty.” Her voice breaks on the last word.
“Why? Is that because you know who killed her?” he asks.
Tori looks up sharply, as if struck. She narrows her eyes. “How did you find me? I’ve been very careful.”
“We’re not here to get you in trouble,” Caren says, her voice kinder than Finn expected. “Or blow your cover, or whatever.”
“I made promises that I would never talk about this.” Tori twists the tissue into a knot.
“Who did you promise?” Caren and Finn ask at the same time, their voices overlapping.
“You mean the Allards, don’t you?” Caren asks.
“They can’t know I’m talking to you. That’s part of the deal we made,” Tori says, her eyes darting to the door as if expecting someone to burst through it at any moment. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to see justice done. It just can’t come from me.”
“So, let us help,” Finn says.
“Hold on,” Caren says, raising a hand. “What deal?”
For a moment the room is silent and Finn wonders if they’ve run out of luck. Gotten as much information as they can from this woman. She’s not right, he thinks, there’s something really wrong with her, like an alien who’s pretending to be a human but either underreacting or camping it up. But then Tori looks right at him and nods.
“I was in trouble. Out of money.” Tori’s words tumble out. “I couldn’t stay in that house after what happened to Autumn. The Allards offered me money if I…” She hesitates. “If I didn’t tellthe police—” She stops abruptly, horror spreading across her face as she realizes she’s said too much.
“Tell the police about what? The affair?” Caren asks, leaning forward. “You were sleeping with Daniel Allard, weren’t you?”
Tori hangs her head. “No.”
“We know,” Caren says. “We know you were seeing one of the dads in the neighborhood.”
Finn glances at Caren out of the corner of his eye. They know no such thing. It’s a long shot.
“It’s worse than that,” she says in a tiny voice. “I was sleeping with Van.”
Beside him, Caren sucks in her breath. “He’s, what, half your age?” Disgust colors her words.
A slight flush creeps up Tori’s neck. “He was nineteen, it’s not illegal.”
“We don’t care about that,” Finn says, shooting Caren a look. “What does this have to do with Autumn?”