Nathan Hayes called on a Saturday morning while Mia was standing in Sarah's kitchen eating toast over the sink because she hadn't yet earned the right to sit down and have a proper meal — that was how her brain was running things lately, on a reward system she hadn't consciously designed.
She answered on the second ring.
"Patricia told me about the notebooks," he said. No preamble. No how are you. Just the thing that mattered. "I want to meet. In person. Not about the case."
She put the toast down. "You said that last time. On the text. Not the case — you."
"I meant it last time."
"Mr. Hayes—"
"Nathan." His voice was unhurried. The voice of a man who had long since stopped being in a hurry about anything. "I know you have reasons not to trust someone who came into your life through a
