Chapter Five—Julie
DALEN IS AT MY OFFICE twenty minutes later, and by then, I’ve taken apart every photograph on my desk.
Laurent tried to stop me after the third one but failed.
“Julie.” He leans against the edge of my desk with his arms folded while I pry open the tabs on another frame.
“At this point, you’re just dismantling your office. ”
“I’ll put it back together.”
“You said that six frames ago.”
I ignore him and slide out a picture from last Christmas. Dalen and I are standing in front of our tree with Meg between us, all three of us wearing the stupid matching sweaters she bought. Nothing is behind it.
I set it beside the others.
The old lake photograph is the only one that’s been touched. Or at least the only one I can prove has been touched. That’s worse somehow.
The outer office door opens, and Dalen walks in with Calla behind him. She must have driven him because he has his phone in one hand and no coat despite the cold. He spots me behind the mess of frames and heads straight toward my desk.
Calla takes one look around. “Do you need me to stay?”
“No.” Dalen reaches me and puts a hand at my waist. “Thanks.”
She nods and leaves without asking questions. I like Calla.
Dalen looks at the photographs covering my desk. “Show me.”
I hand him the lake picture and the one that was hidden behind it. “This one was in the frame upside down. This one was behind it.”
He studies both.
Laurent pushes away from the desk. “I’m going to check on the installers.”
I shoot him a glance. “You don’t have installers here today.”
“I do now.”
I almost smile as he disappears.
Dalen turns the second photograph over. There’s nothing written on the back. “Where was this kept?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’ve never seen it?”
“I’ve seen it. I just haven’t seen it in years.” I pick up the first photograph. “Mom had boxes of pictures when we were kids. After she died, Meg and I split most of them without paying much attention. This could’ve ended up with either of us.”
He stares at it like he’s demanding it explain itself. “Could it have been here?”
“I don’t think so.”
He looks at me as I hear it too late.
Think.
My stomach tightens. “I’ve never put two pictures in that frame.”
“Okay.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“I didn’t say you would.”
“You looked at me.”
Dalen blinks. “I’m generally looking at you when we’re talking.”
Under any other circumstances, I’d have a response for that. Right now, I put the photograph down harder than necessary.
He sets the second one beside it. “Who has access to the office?”
“Me. Laurent. Our staff.”
“How many people?”
“Seven, counting me.”
“Cleaning crew?”
I have to think about that. “They come twice a week after hours.”
“Clients?”
“Sometimes. Vendors. Contractors. Delivery people.” I wave toward the front. “It’s an office, Dalen. People come in.”
He grunts. “Do you have cameras?”
“Outside the suite and in reception. Nothing back here.”
He takes out his phone.
I catch his wrist. “What are you doing?”
“Calling building security.”
“Oh.” I release him. “Right.”
His expression changes slightly. “What did you think I was doing?”
“I don’t know.”
That’s the problem. I do know. For one ugly second, I thought he was going to call someone professional while gently asking if I’d moved the picture myself.
Dalen makes the call while I start putting the frames back together. My hands need something to do, and restoring order to the mess I’ve made is easier than standing here listening to him explain that someone may have entered his wife’s office.
He gets transferred twice before reaching the building manager. The hallway cameras retain thirty days of footage, but someone has to review it. Dalen offers to send somebody from his security company.
I snap the back onto a frame and glance over. “You have a security company now?”
He covers the phone. “Apparently.” He winks.
“Congratulations.” We have one on retainer, and the reminder makes me queasy.
“Thank you.” He goes back to the call.
I fit another photograph into its frame. The picture is from our wedding. Meg is beside me, holding my bouquet while Dalen has one arm around my waist. She cried harder than I did that day.
I look at her smiling face longer than I mean to.
Dalen ends the call. “They’re pulling the hallway footage.”
“For how long?”
“The last week to start.”
I exhale sharply. “You realize hundreds of people probably walked past that camera?”
“I do.” Unlike me, he doesn’t seem haunted by that.
“Whoever did this could’ve been here legitimately.”
“I know.”
I slide the wedding photograph back onto my desk. “I hate this.”
Dalen comes around behind me and rubs my shoulders. I lean back against him, letting my head rest briefly beneath his chin. “I’m scared.”
His hands stop for an instant before moving again. “I know.”
“I keep trying to make it stupid.”
“What?”
“The whole thing.” I gesture toward the desk. “A necklace in the wrong place. A weird text. A photograph turned around. If I tell each thing separately, I sound ridiculous.”
“You left out the door.”
“I know.”
He holds me tighter. “And waking up with someone beside the bed.”
“I know that too.”
Dalen turns me toward him. “Then stop taking pieces away until it sounds harmless.”
I look at his face. “That was good.”
“I have moments.”
My lips wobble when I try to smile. “You should write it down.”
“I’ll have Calla make a plaque.”
I laugh despite myself and press my forehead to his chest.
He closes his arms around me.
For a few minutes, I let him be the person who can fix things even though neither of us knows what needs fixing.
Then Laurent sticks his head through the doorway. “Is the billionaire done interrogating the building?”
Dalen looks over my head. “For now.”
“Excellent. I need Julie.”
“You have terrible timing,” I say.
“That’s why you pay me.”
“I pay you because you keep me from ordering ugly chairs when I’m tired.”
Laurent points at Dalen. “See? She admits she makes bad decisions when sleep-deprived.”
The joke hits differently after my conversation with Dalen about Mom.
Laurent’s smile disappears when he sees my face. “That came out wrong.”
“It’s fine.”
Dalen’s hand moves once over my back before he releases me.
I straighten the frames on my desk. “What do you need?”
“The Banfield samples are here.”
“Great. Give me five minutes.”
Laurent leaves, and Dalen picks up his phone from my desk. “You’re staying here?”
“I have work.”
“I know. I meant tonight.”
I frown. “Where else would I stay?”
“We could stay at a hotel while we figure this out.”
I shake my head. “Our house has more security than most banks.”
“I know.”
“Also, I refuse to be chased out of my house.”
His mouth almost curves. “That’s your final answer?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll see you at home.” He kisses me.
I catch the front of his shirt before he can pull away. “Dalen?”
“Yeah?”
I don’t know what I want to ask. Whether he believes me feels insulting after everything he’s done. Whether he thinks I’m becoming my mother feels worse.
I smooth the fabric I’ve wrinkled instead. “Nothing.”
He watches me for another second before kissing my forehead. “Call me.”
“I always do.”
He leaves, and I go find Laurent.
The Banfield samples occupy most of the conference table, which is exactly what I need. Fabric doesn’t have motives. Wallpaper doesn’t move itself. Nobody has ever gaslighted me with a lumbar pillow.
I spend the next three hours making decisions I’m qualified to make.
By six, Laurent has gone home, and I’m still at my desk finishing a proposal. The frames are lined up exactly where they were before, including the lake picture.
I put the original photograph back in the frame.
The second one is in my purse. I don’t know why. Maybe I want to show Meg. Maybe I don’t want to leave it here. Maybe I’m afraid it’ll disappear if I do.
That thought makes me close my laptop. I’m done for the day.
The reception area is dark when I walk through it. I set the alarm, lock the suite, and stand in the hallway long enough to look up at the security camera mounted near the elevator.
A little red light glows beneath the lens.
“Please have something useful,” I mutter.
The elevator opens, and I step inside alone. By the time I reach the parking garage, I’ve already pulled out my phone and call Meg.
She answers on the fourth ring, sounding distracted. “Hey.”
“Bad time?”
“No. I’m leaving work.”
I hear a car door close in the background. “I found something weird today.”
There’s a short pause. “What?”
“One of the pictures in my office was turned upside down.”
“Okay.” She draws it out, clearly confused.
“There was another photograph behind it.”
This pause is slightly longer. “What photograph?”
I reach into my purse as I walk toward my car. “Us with Mom. From the lake.”
Meg doesn’t answer immediately.
I stop beside my car.
“You remember that trip?”
“Barely.”
I take out the photograph and look at it beneath the garage lights. “Mom’s sitting on the picnic table with you.”
“Julie, I was like eight.”
“I know.”
“What does this have to do with everything else?”
“I don’t know yet.”
She sighs. “I’m sorry. That sounded bitchy.”
“A little.”
“I’ve had a day.”
I unlock my car and put my bag on the passenger seat. “Folder emergency?”
“No. Something else.” Her voice softens. “Can you send me the picture?”
“Why?”
“I want to see if I remember it.”
I hesitate before taking a photo and texting it to her.
Meg gets quiet.
“Do you remember it?”
“Maybe.”
I wait.
She clears her throat. “Mom had that blue cooler forever.”
I look at the photograph again. A blue cooler sits beneath the picnic table. “You remember the cooler?”
“Everybody remembers that cooler. It leaked.”
I smile faintly. “True.”
Meg makes a little sound that could be a laugh. “You look mad in the picture.”
I study my eleven-year-old face near the edge of the frame. “I don’t look mad.”
“You kind of do.”
“I was probably squinting.”
“Maybe.”
I get into my car but don’t start it. “Do you have any pictures from that trip?”
“I don’t know. Probably somewhere.”
“Can you look?”
“Tonight?” The impatience in her voice catches my attention.