“About what?”
“I don’t know.”
Marisol became quiet.
Then she asked, “What if Adrian wasn’t supposed to meet you?”
I frowned.
“That’s what the note suggests.”
“No.”
She leaned forward.
“What if nobody cared whether you met Adrian?”
I stared at her.
“What do you mean?”
“What if the important person was Claire?”
I thought of the empty seat.
The stranger who should have been beside me.
The assistant who disappeared.
“Claire was supposed to sit next to me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“That’s the question.”
I stood and crossed to the window.
Outside, Houston moved beneath a pale blue sky.
Ordinary traffic.
Ordinary people.
Thousands of lives continuing while mine seemed to have developed hidden doors.
My phone rang.
Ethan.
Marisol saw the name.
“You want me to stay?”
“Yes.”
She nodded.
I answered.
“Hello.”
Ethan’s voice was tense.
“Are you alone?”
“No.”
“Who’s there?”
