37. Chapter 37
Cate
Present
Iclutched the photo to my chest without realizing I’d done it.
“That’s him,” I whispered. “That’s John.”
Seth had gone completely still.
“How long ago were these items recovered?” I asked.
The detective hesitated, just long enough.
“Earlier this evening.”
The implication settled like ash.
John hadn’t been gone forever. He’d been gone until now.
I felt hollowed out.
Seth stood abruptly, his chair screeching against the floor.
“I need air,” he muttered.
Detective Marshall watched him go, then turned back to me.
I held the photograph a moment longer before sliding it back into the wallet. My thumb lingered over the edge, as if the image might disappear if I didn’t anchor it there.
I hadn’t even known he still carried that picture.
I tucked the wallet back into the envelope and wiped my nose with the back of my hand before holding it out.
“Those are John’s,” I said quietly. Then, after a beat, “But that man…” I nodded toward the door we’d just come through. “That man is not.”
Detective Marshall exhaled slowly, his shoulders dropping. He glanced at the envelope and shook his head.
“Technically, these should stay with us. But they’re not evidence of a crime, and they’re yours. If that changes, we’ll contact you.”
I pulled the envelope back against my chest, instinctive and fierce.
John was in there. Not in body, but in fragments. Proof in the small, stubborn evidence that he had existed at all. That he hadn’t just vanished into rumor and paperwork.
I slipped my purse over my shoulder, my fingers still curled tight around the edge of the manila envelope. “Are we done here?” I asked, my voice already gone thin.
The detective nodded. “For now.”
The hallway felt longer on the way back. Colder. Like the building itself was receding from us, sealing things away as we moved.
When the door opened, Seth was already standing.
He searched my face, his eyes moving fast, and desperate, like he was trying to read an answer before I could speak it.
“Where is he?” he finally asked.
I tipped my head back, staring at the ceiling until the burn behind my eyes flared sharp enough to ground me. I pressed my lips together once, hard.
Then he was there, arms around me, solid and familiar, holding on like if he didn’t, one of us might disappear too.
I clutched the envelope between us, my forehead pressed to his shoulder, and for the first time since the call, I let myself shake.
Detective Marshall murmured an apology and said something about keeping us informed. His words slid past me without leaving a mark.
Seth guided me back down the empty corridor, his arm firm at my back, steady where I wasn’t. Outside, the night air hit my lungs sharp and clean.
The drive home was silent.
When he finally pulled into my driveway, he shut off the engine but didn’t look at me.
“There’s something I just can’t figure out. Why did that man have John’s wallet?” he asked. “How did he get John’s things?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “No one does.”
A tear slid down Seth’s cheek. Without thinking, I reached over and wiped it away. I rested my head against his shoulder, and for the first time that night, let myself be still.
“Why did you stop coming around?” I asked softly.
He inhaled, shaky. “Because you reminded me of him.” His hand tightened on the steering wheel. “He was my best friend, my brother, Cate. And the last thing I said to him was that if he didn’t find a way to get Lindsay into your wedding, he’d be ruining my life.”
His voice broke completely then. He folded into me, grief tearing free after ten years of being buried.
I held him. Stroked his hair. Whispered nonsense comforts I didn’t believe but needed to say.
Somewhere along the way, I’d become the strong one. I wasn’t sure when that had happened, or if it meant anything at all.
“I’m sorry,” Seth said eventually, pulling back. “I should be comforting you.”
I smiled faintly. “John wouldn’t want us miserable,” I said. “He’d want us to remember the good parts.”
Seth nodded. “Yeah. He would.”
“How’s Baby?” I asked.
“She’s slowing down,” he said. “Getting old.”
I closed my eyes. “Thank you for taking care of her. I just… couldn’t.”
“I know.”
“I’m getting married tomorrow,” I said.
He nodded. “I got the invitation.”
“I’d like it if you came.”
He huffed a laugh. “Trevor wouldn’t.”
“It’s not about Trevor.”
He paused as if in thought. “Can I bring a date?”
“Sure,” I said lightly. “How’s Lindsay?”
His throat cleared. “We broke up. Years ago. I’m engaged now. Her name is Courtney.”
I smiled at that. Then glanced down at my hand, where Trevor’s ring currently sat beside John’s. Different weights. Different lives.
“Congratulations,” I said. And meant it.
When I got out of the truck, Seth spoke again.
“Thank you. For loving him the way you did. You gonna be okay?” he asked.
I wiped my eyes and forced something like a smile. “Yeah. I think so.”
The tears returned, quiet and unmanageable. I nodded, hugged him once more, then retreated into the house - alone, but not empty.