Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 76717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
He frowns, sits back down on the bed. “We lost touch with most of our friends after Julia was born. It was just too difficult to have much of a social life with both of us working and a small child to take care of.” He sighs. “And then…after she died, I lost contact with them altogether. People reached out, of course, but I turned them all away.”
I feel the pain through his words. I hate that he has to relive all of this.
“Anyone else? Maybe a friend of hers from before she met you?”
He rubs his temple. “There was her childhood friend, Rebecca. They were inseparable until college. But after that they drifted apart.”
“Rebecca…” I echo the name. “Someone named Becca wrote on the Facebook memorial. Was that her?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know.”
“Did Lindsay ever mention what Rebecca’s last name was?”
He rakes his fingers though his hair. “She may have. I honestly don’t recall. Fuck, Angie…”
“Are you okay?” I ask.
What a stupid question. Of course he’s not okay.
“I’m just tired.” He runs a hand over his face. His gorgeous eyes are bloodshot, and dark circles have formed under them. “I’m tired of the questions, the uncertainty. I just want to know what happened.”
I grab his hand. “We’ll find out, Jason. I promise.”
He gives a weak nod. “Rebecca… I’ll see if I can find anything about her in Lindsay’s stuff.”
“The old boyfriend too,” I say. “Ronny Burgundy. Weird that both Ronny and Rebecca start with R. Like R. Lyon.”
“There’s that,” he says, his voice weary. “It could be a coincidence, but it’s worth looking into.”
What I don’t mention is the other R I’m concerned about.
Ralph.
Ralph, who told me about Jason being led away.
Ralph, who saw us kissing.
And Ralph…
Was he behind the anonymous email to HR about Jason and me?
Something’s not right here.
Chapter Ten
Jason
My hand tremor is more noticeable than ever as I call Louisa the next morning.
“Hey, Jason,” she says into the phone.
I clear my throat. “Louisa, hi.”
“Have you made your reservation to Bern? Gita and I were talking yesterday, and I told her I’d no doubt hear from you by the end of the day. But then you never called. In fact, I was just about to call you. Send me your itinerary right away so Gita’s people in Switzerland can make arrangements to pick you up and get you to lodging.”
“Lodging?”
“Yeah, we found a place for you. One of Gita’s friends has an Airbnb he’s willing to let you have at a really reduced rate.”
Fuck.
How can I tell them I’m not going?
“Louisa, something’s come up.”
“Oh God. What is it?”
“I still want the surgery. I still want to do it in Switzerland. But…I need some time.”
“Jason, we went over this.” Her voice is curt. “There isn’t time. One of the researchers thinks he may have found a nerve that will work.”
“I know.”
“Then I don’t have to tell you that time is of the essence. The cadaver nerve is only viable for so long.”
“I understand all that,” I reply, my voice tighter than I’d like. “But there’s something here, something important that I have to figure out first. Are you able to postpone it for a couple of weeks?”
A pause. Then, “I doubt it. Not without finding another nerve. I’ll have to discuss it with Gita and the rest of the team. I can’t promise anything, Jason. The nerve won’t wait forever. This isn’t just about you. It’s about our research and potential future patients as well.”
“I know.” I rub my forehead with my free hand. “I’m sorry, Louisa. This isn’t how I planned any of this.”
“Life rarely goes according to plan,” she replies, her voice gentler.
“Yeah.” I rub at the back of my head. “I’ve realized that.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” she says. “But please do what you can on your end too. This surgery could change your life.”
What I can on my end…
That means either getting to Switzerland ASAP or going to therapy.
Fuck.
“I understand. I’ll be in touch.” I end the call, my mind a whirling storm of thoughts.
Angie’s words echo in my head.
We’ll find out, Jason. I promise.
It’s a promise she had no business making, but I don’t begrudge her for it. She was trying to help. Is trying to help.
But the whole thing has so many variables. And more people have their fingers in this pie than I ever imagined.
I pace around my home office. Then I remember. I grabbed Lindsay’s senior yearbook when I was at her parents’ place. I quickly open it and locate the section with the graduating students’ headshots.
I look at names, not bothering to check the faces. After all, I don’t know these people from Adam. No Ronny Burgundy. Clearly he was too obsessed with Lindsay to bother turning in a senior photo. But there was a Rebecca in Lindsay’s class.