“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought you had enough on your mind.”
I cover my face with my hands. In some ways, he’s right—there’s more going on in my head than I know what to do with.
“I don’t like being kept in the dark, Falk.”
“It’s enough that I know,” he says. “Telling you that information only would have frightened you. I know you’re a strong person, but I also know you can only take so much. I want you always thinking clearly, and that’s hard to do if you’re constantly watching over your shoulder. That’s why I’m here—to watch over your shoulder for you.”
“You mean ‘to be paranoid.’”
“Call it what you want.”
“I have to be able to talk to people, Falk.” I want to be able to think and talk about this rationally, but the image of Hudson coming through the door keeps replaying in my mind. “I know you want me close to you all the time, and I can put up with a certain amount of that, but you can’t stop me from talking to the other people here.”
“How did your last talk with Beck go, huh?”
“That’s not the point.”
“That is exactly the point!” Falk yells, and I jump, taking a step back. Falk points a finger at me. “He was dangerous. You know it and I know it. He had you cornered in the shed, and god knows what he would have done to you.”
“How did you know that?” I ask. “I didn’t tell you he cornered me.”
“I figured it out.”
“How?”
“Because you only react that way when someone’s touched you!” Falk runs his hand through his hair and turns away, his jaw tight. “The shed isn’t that big. I knew he’d grabbed you, and that could only have happened if you were cornered. Fuck, Hannah—it was hours later, and you were still shaken up. Are you going to tell me I’m wrong?”
He doesn’t look at me as he speaks, and Caesar’s words echo in my head. Do I really know Falk any better than the rest of the people here? Do I trust him?
“I have to be able to talk to people,” I say again. “Unless you have something that points to one of the people here being connected to Hudson, you have to let me act like a person, and people need people. You’re isolating me, Falk.”
“That isn’t my intent.”
“But that’s what’s happening.”
He leans back on the couch for a moment and stares toward the balcony door before he stands again, heading to the kitchen drawer where he keeps a pack of cigarettes.
“Come outside with me?” he asks.
I nod and follow him to the balcony. He lights up and leans his elbows against the rail, slowly drawing the smoke into his lungs.
“I was married,” Falk suddenly blurts out.
“What?”
He closes his eyes and drops his head down so his chin is nearly touching his chest. I watch his shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath.
“Right out of high school,” he says quietly. “She was two years older than me, but I’d just graduated. My parents…well, they thought we were nuts, but when you’re eighteen, you know everything, right?”
He looks up at me with pleading eyes. I can only nod in response.
“We’d only been married a year,” he says, continuing. “Had our anniversary the month before. I came home from work—I was flipping burgers and had to close that night—and I found her.”
His body stills, and he doesn’t speak again for a long time. I hold my breath, waiting, but I already know what’s to come.
“The police said it was a random burglary, and I guess they were probably right. She’d been shot right in the chest. If I had been there…”