“Oh.” Then I open my mouth to ask the obvious, but Adam cuts me off.
“No, Merc. You may not mindfuck Indie.”
“What if she—”
“The answer is no.”
I surrender with my hand. “OK. It’s your call.”
“It is.”
I leave it at that. And I’m just about to walk away—go into the kitchen and find some food—but Adam says, “McKay and I are going into New Orleans this evening. We’ll be back tomorrow. Will that mess with any of your plans?”
“Nope. We’re gonna need the right drugs and equipment and Doc says he can get it, but it’s gonna take the whole day. So. We’ll start tomorrow.”
“Good,” Adam says. And this one word comes with a genuine smile. “Good.” Then he goes back the way he came, disappearing through the front door.
Sasha and I look at each other. She says, “They’re weird, right? This whole place, right?”
“Hundred percent. I can’t wait to go home. And you do not have to stay—”
“Stop.” She puts up a hand. “This is it for me, ya know? Once I leave here, it’s all bygones. So I need to get as much peace of mind as I can before I go.”
“What do you mean?”
“Lauren, Merc. I need to make sure that Nick will stay the hell away from us. The last thing she needs is for him to pop back up after all these years. She’s happy, right?”
I agree with a nod.
“I mean, I’m sure she didn’t forget about him. I’m sure she thinks about him. But picturing Nick in her mind and seeing Nick with her stepmother—”
“Hah. Hah.” I laugh. I can’t help it.
“What?”
“You’re jealous of Wendy.”
“I’m not. I’m happily married.”
“That’s got nothing to do with it. But if it makes you feel any better, I’m sure Nick is jealous of Jax too.”
Sasha frowns a little. Like she never thought of that. Then she sighs. “OK. Fine. I’m not… like… jealous. But. Finding out he’s married to Wendy? What the fuck? It’s kind of a shock, right?”
“Hey, I never saw it coming.”
“Yeah.” Her voice is quiet now. “Me either.”
I wonder how many daydreams she had since she was thirteen about her lost life with Nicholas Tate. And then, after she killed him, how many nightmares?
He’s a dick.
I think I hate Nick Tate.
“Anyway”—Sasha sighs—“let’s go check out Donovan’s room. Come on.” She starts climbing the stairs.
I follow her up and we enter the second room on the right.
“Hey,” I say. “Can you like… have dinner with Nick, or something?”
Sasha scoffs. “What?”
“I need you to talk to him.”
She pulls open a drawer, starts looking through it like she’s a professional cat burglar. “Talk to him about what?”
“He’s up to something. Don’t you think he’s up to something?”
She huffs. “Well, duh.”
“So I need you to poke around and find out what it is.”
Sasha pushes the drawer closed, straightens up, and makes a face at me. “This is Nicholas Tate we’re talking about. The guy who faked his own death and made me think I killed him.”
“Technically, that was Santos. But I get your meaning. And if I were pumping him for information, then yeah, he’d be onto me like flies on shit. But you—”
“Me what? Trust me, Merc.” She lowers her voice to a whisper, suddenly aware that people might be able to hear us. “Nick Tate won’t be falling for my charms. He’s totally in love with Wendy. I can see it in his eyes. The old femme fatale thing?” She shakes her head. “It’s not gonna work on him.”
“I’m not asking for a miracle here, Sash.” I too lower my voice to a whisper. “Just pay attention to all the details. Maybe get him alone and ask a question or two.”
“I’m not having dinner with him. There’s no way he’ll agree to some kind of date. He still thinks of me as that thirteen-year-old girl who thought she was in love. And I’m not really comfortable around Wendy.”
“OK. Forget dinner. But surely you can corner him. Have a small conversation. Tell him about your life. Lauren’s life. Make him jealous.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
“Fuck’s sake, Sasha! Just figure out his angle in all this. There has to be an angle. And I’m sure you’ve got like seventeen tools in your little Company toolbox that can get it out of him!”
This makes her smile big. “What do you even think he’s up to?”
“Everything.”
“That’s not an answer, Merc. What’s got you worried?”
“Wendy, for one. When we were walking through the breezeway on the back of the pool deck last night, Nick and Adam were into some kind of deep conversation. And it was about Wendy. Adam turned towards me and I saw his lips moving. I didn’t catch the first part, but the last part definitely had something to do with Wendy.”
“Why don’t you just go ask him?”
“Because he’s going to lie.” Sasha shoots me another look. This look says, You’re making this more complicated than it needs to be. And normally, I’d agree. But it’s already complicated. This whole place is complicated. “You are here,” I say, and I point to the floor. “And here is a place far, far away from normal. Never mind the swamp, the woods, the snakes, the lake, the weird missing lake house, the river, the little blonde girl, the big blonde girls, Doc, the slutty nurses, the dual personality, the dead guy who never died, and the killer boyfriend waiting to pounce if we make one. Wrong. Move.”