Thread of Truth, стр. 6
“But there’s two?” I asked. “You have two? And I don’t need a ticket?”
She chuckled and shook her head. “Trust me. You’re good to go. As long as you show up, you’ll get a seat.”
I wasn’t going to question her. “Alright then.”
She turned the temperature down on the grill. “Is it cool if I spend the night here tonight? It's Kevin's birthday and Audrey was too polite to ask me to leave the apartment for the night, so I offered.”
“You know you don't have to ask. Of course.”
She shrugged. “I don't want to assume anything.”
“It is safe to assume you will always be welcome here and never have to ask,” I told her. “Stay for five minutes or five months. I like it when you're here.”
“Because I make dinner for you.”
“That's just a bonus.”
She laughed. “Just wait until I can't find a job and have to move back in for good.”
“I keep your room ready.”
She turned around and pointed at me with the tongs. “Dad, for real. You need to go on a date or something.”
“How did we go from talking about you moving back in to me going on a date?”
“Seemed like a natural progression.”
I eyed her. “Maybe you aren't welcome here...”
“I'm serious,” she said. “You're in this house all alone. You need some company.”
“You're here. I'm good.”
“That's not what I mean and you know it,” she said. A frown creased her forehead. “You need some...companionship.”
I thought of Lauren.
“I'm fine.”
“No, you're not.” Elizabeth’s gaze drifted to the door that led into the kitchen. I watched as her eyes shifted to the windows upstairs. “This house is built for more than one person.”
A small knot formed in my gut as I imagined Lauren in the house. How we’d lived there together, then drifted apart, then made our way back to each other for that brief period of time after finding Elizabeth.
And then...
The knot grew.
Some days, it was easy to block the memories, to keep moving forward and not dwell on the past.
But other days were pure hell.
I tried to ignore the twisting in my gut and forced a smile instead. “There are two of us here right now,” I said lightly.
“I mean, you can decide not to take me seriously, but I'm not dropping this,” she said.
“I know a locksmith.”
She gave me a withering look. “You aren't nearly as funny as you think.”
I stood up. “I'll get plates.”
“Avoidance,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “I'm totally setting you up on Tinder.”
“I don't know what that is and even if I did, I wouldn't be interested.” I squeezed her shoulder. “I'm okay. I promise.”
It wasn’t a lie. I did feel okay.
Most days.
“I didn't say you weren't,” she said. “I just don't want you to be alone forever.”
“Well, hopefully, you won't be able to find a job and you'll have to move back in,” I said. “Then I won’t be alone.”
“Seriously,” she said. “You aren't that funny.”
FIVE
We ate the steaks and had a nice evening catching up and half-heartedly watching a movie. She thankfully didn't bring up finding a companion for me again and, after a quick breakfast the next morning, she was out the door, heading back to school.
I went for a quick run on the beach, showered, and called Olivia Cousins, Desmond’s girlfriend, to ask if I could come talk to her. The Lockers had apparently prepped her for my call because she didn't seem surprised to hear from me and agreed to meet me at ten at her home.
Olivia's home was just south of UCSD in a cozy neighborhood adjacent to La Jolla Village Square. It was a single-story ranch home with a swing on the front porch and two small SUVs parked in the driveway. The garden under the front windows looked as if it were attended to on an hourly basis, with perfectly manicured red and yellow roses.
I parked at the curb and a man about my size and age was waiting behind the screen door for me. He was in denim jeans and a long-sleeved button down that hugged his frame. His hair was like a glacier, making a slow retreat from his forehead. He stared intently at me as I made my way up the walk.
“I'm Joe Tyler,” I said when I reached the door.
“Bill Cousins,” he said, pushing open the screen and offering his hand. “I'm Olivia's father.”
We shook hands and it might've been my imagination, but it felt like he hung on a fraction too hard and half a second too long. He stepped out of the way and motioned for me to come in.
“My wife and Olivia are in the living room,” he said as I stepped past him. “Olivia, she said you were coming over.”
“I hope that's okay,” I said. “Mr. and Mrs. Locker passed along her contact information to me.”
“You're an investigator?” he asked, making no move to leave the small entry area.
“I am.”
He nodded, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening. “Have you learned anything about Desmond?”
“I just spoke with the Lockers last night,” I told him. “Olivia was my first call.”
“Okay.” He motioned toward the hallway. “Living room's this way.”
He didn't seem thrilled to have me in his home, but I wouldn't have called him unwelcoming. I assumed he was worried about a man he didn't know coming to speak with his daughter. I didn't fault him for that.
The picture-lined hallway emptied into a long room with two sofas, an easy chair, and a television mounted on the wall. A woman about Bill Cousins' age was on the sofa sitting upright and staring at a small baby cradled in the younger girl's lap. The younger girl had black hair that hung just below her shoulders. She didn’t look a day over sixteen. She wore a long-sleeved sweatshirt and bright pink sweatpants that hid her post-pregnant body well. The baby was gurgling and fussing, and it took a moment before either