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the seat.

“Jay’s gone into full feeder mode,” Felix sighs. “He keeps trying to offer me my own leftover tahdig. It’s my tahdig.”

“You know him,” Alex says. “He gets nervous.”

“Yeah,” Felix says, “but doesn’t he seem more nervous to you lately?”

“Let’s let Jay deal with this his own way.” Christie’s tone has shifted, all business now. “I’ll ask you what I’ve asked the others, Rose. Talking to everyone today, did you notice anything? Anything at all.”

I let out a slow breath. “Well. John Jonas might’ve had the most positive view of the Flood that I saw. And Theresa’s seen him at the pawn shop more than anyone else.”

“Trust me, I’d love that,” Cassie drawls. “But I don’t think he’d do this.”

“Let’s not rule anything out,” Christie says. Cassie determinedly doesn’t react to that.

“Loreen Murphy’s a frequent customer, too,” I continue. “But . . . I don’t know.”

“Kinda seems like they’re enjoying watching Maggie Williams squirm,” Felix says.

“There must be easier ways to do that, though,” Alex says.

“I don’t know,” Felix says. “Go big or go home.”

“And . . .” I falter, not sure whether to say this out loud. “There’s the waitress from the Sweet as Pie.”

“Adrienne?” Felix blinks. “We didn’t talk to her.”

“I stopped there on my way back.” I look to the floor, fiddling with the hem of my shirt. “Plenty of people here have been kind to me. I don’t want to suspect anyone just for that. But . . .”

“But when you think about it,” Christie says, “she gives people back what they’ve lost every day. And she can’t give that to herself. That has to sting.”

Cassie shakes her head tightly. “She’s not on the customer list.”

“The list was just one lead,” Christie says. “Just because she wasn’t seen there—”

“If we want to start suspecting people just for experiencing something tragic, we’re back to square one.” Cassie’s still just looking at me, not Christie. “People don’t come here for happy reasons. Why do you think it’s just us here in this room? No one here has experienced that kind of loss except for you, Rose. We’re not going to be tempted the way others might. We didn’t even tell Sandy.”

Now Christie’s not looking at Cassie, either. “Sandy lost a twin sister, when she was young. She’d never do anything like this. But I didn’t want her to have to make that choice.”

The tension between them is palpable. I’m in no position to lecture anyone on communication, but someone needs to lock them in a room together.

“Well,” Christie finally says. “Go for the sympathy vote tonight. Appeal to the Flood’s right to be here. And keep an eye on those three, as well as anyone else who comes out strongly in our favor. Not to target our allies, but . . .”

“What if we told everyone about the commission?” Alex asks.

I nod. “The Mockingbird doesn’t keep records. The pawn shop doesn’t have cameras. But friends and neighbors are going to notice where you’re going or who you’ve lost.”

“Yeah . . .” Felix says. “But do they have any reason to believe us at this point?”

“More importantly,” Cassie says. Her voice is brittle. “Does it really matter if we find them or not?”

Christie turns to her, and there’s an odd, frozen silence. I fight the urge to slip under Felix’s desk. “Something on your mind, Cassie?”

Another beat. And then, with a defiant raise of her chin, Cassie finally looks at her.

“What if the person who made that tape doesn’t know how to stop it?” Cassie says. “What if they’re just as lost as we are?”

“They know something,” Christie says. “They have to.”

“Why?” She laughs, high and humorless. “Because you say so?”

“Because I’ve tried everything else!” Christie snaps back. It hits the room like a shockwave. “It’s this or give up, Cassie, and I’m going to keep trying, like you asked me to.”

“Maybe you’re trying the wrong things.” Where Christie’s anger is explosive, Cassie’s is tight, restrained. But I can hear her voice shaking. “Maybe there’s not a person you can blame this time.”

“And what does that mean?” Christie says.

“It means that not everything works out like Rudy. Not everything can be talked out,” Cassie says. “And if for one second you stopped worrying about the neighbors, maybe you’d be a little more worried about—”

What happens next is almost too quick to see. Christie barely, barely inches forward, just far enough out of the shadows. And Rudy rises up from the floor and lunges for me.

Christie is just as quick—she grabs and pulls at him, wrestling him back toward the floor, but the massive, hungry shadow trying to fight his way toward me is actually not my first concern. Because there’s a fathomless chill spilling over my shoulders. Rearing up like a predator.

The office around us fades into a pale, carpeted bedroom, and distantly, I see a young woman, her hair in braids, her face cautious, her hands raised. Christie, maybe six or seven years younger. Before her, much smaller than he is now, I see Rudy, defensiveness in every line of his form.

Christie’s mouth moves, forming the same two words over and over. I can’t hear her. But I see what she’s saying, and I wonder.

“It’s okay,” I breathe, timing the words with young Christie’s. “It’s okay, it’s okay, he won’t hurt you, it’s okay . . .”

I come back to the present slowly. And when I do, I can faintly hear Christie, still telling Rudy the same thing.

At length, she turns back to me. She looks stricken. “Rose, I’m—”

I shake my head, try to smile, even as my stomach churns. Christie lets out a long, controlled breath. “Go ahead. I don’t think I should be near you right now.”

Cassie’s out first, the click of her heels echoing ahead. The rest of us mumble our goodbyes and file out of the room. Alex sidles up next to me as we exit into the foyer.

“Are you okay?” he says.

I nod. I don’t feel okay. Every nerve in my body is still trembling. But for the first time since I got to Lotus Valley, I’m hopeful.

Because for a second

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