“I’m going for a swim,” I tell her.

She glances up. Her eyes take on that look and it’s not fucking fair. She doesn’t get to look at me like she wants me when I know she doesn’t.

“Wait,” she says. “I’ll go with you.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Stop fucking with me.”

“I’m not.” She looks hurt. I tell myself I don’t care.

“I’ll be right out there.” I hold up my cell. “Call me if anything happens.”

I go out the back door and jog down to the water. I don’t stop, dropping my towel-wrapped phone on the sand, and run right into the water. It’s colder than I expected, making me lose my breath. I swim until my heart is pounding and I’m almost too tired to drag myself out of the water. When I do, I find Cora standing next to my towel, her arms wrapped around her.

The breeze lifts the black and neon-blue strands of her hair. Her bare feet are dug into the sand so far it looks like she doesn’t have any. She stares at me, daring me. Her eyes are brighter in the late-afternoon sun. I’m out of breath from more than my swim. I stop when she’s still out of reach. Everything about her is defiant, from her gaze to her stance to the tilt of her head.

“I love you too.”

Her words are a sucker punch to the gut. I now get what she was saying that day in our office when I first tried to tell her I love her. The falseness of it is insulting. It hurts more than if she hadn’t said anything at all.

“You’re only saying that because you’re losing me.”

Me throwing her words back at her surprises her. I remember that feeling too, being shocked into examining everything about yourself. Are the feelings even real or am I saying them only because I’m afraid, and does my being afraid make them real? It’s a puzzle I turned over and over in my head until I wasn’t sure of anything at all. The arrogance gets swept away and you’re left feeling more uncertain and vulnerable than at any other moment in your life.

And then when you realize you mean it, that you’re in love, well, then it’s too late. There’s no fucking going back from that or the realization that you’re in it alone.

“Don’t deny it,” I tell her. “Don’t fucking lie to me.”

“I’m not.”

“Stop it, Cora.”

She takes a step toward me, making me move back. She tries again. I back away again.

“Listen to me, Leo. I didn’t get it. I didn’t.”

“And you suddenly do now?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t believe you. What about Beau?”

Her gaze shifts away.

“So you’re telling me this as what? A parting gift? No, thanks.” I storm past her, scooping up my towel on my way back to the house.

My phone rings. It’s my dad.

“Hello?”

“They got him!” He’s out of breath and excited. “They got him trying to get back across the border.”

I stop just inside the back door of the house. “And they arrested him?”

“The Mexican police have him, but yes, he’s been arrested.”

Cora touches my arm, making me turn. “They got Winfro?”

Looking down at her hand on me, I nod. I didn’t know a touch so soft could be so excruciating. I shift, causing her hand to slide away.

“They got him,” I tell her.

Her hands go to her mouth. Above them, her eyes are big and watery.

“Tell Cora I have some more good news. I’m on my way over now. You guys did it. You did it.” He ends the call.

“He’s on his way over. He says he has more news.”

“Oh, my God. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe they got him. I just can’t believe it.”

“I’m gonna take a quick shower before my dad gets here.” I start forward, then turn back. “I’m glad they got him.”

“Thanks. For everything. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

I nod and turn away. I can hardly look at her anymore, let alone be in the same room with her.

The shower does nothing to change my mood. My dad’s already there when I come out. He’s sitting on the couch in the living room with Cora. The bright orange sun hangs high over the water, the brightness of it nearly blinding. I drop down into a chair on the other side of the room from Cora. My dad takes notice and looks like he’s going to say something, then shakes his head. I try not to look as miserable as I feel.

“What’s your news?” I ask him.

“As you know, I had an appointment with the Freedom Project people. I brought them your notes and those photos you sent me of Mrs. Wheeler’s notebook. They’re taking Beau’s case. While I was there they had a conference call with a retired judge they’ve worked with before to get his take on it. Nothing’s for sure, but they’re pretty confident they can get his conviction overturned. It’ll take some time. The wheels of justice move at the speed of frozen molasses.

“You kids did amazing work on this case. Seriously, some of the best investigative work I’ve ever seen. Leo knows he’s got a place at the agency if he wants one. Although I’m pretty sure that’s not where his heart lies. As for you, Cora, I’d like to offer you a job. From the first moment I met you, you’ve constantly surprised and amazed me. You’re a natural at this. One of the best I’ve ever seen. I know guys who are twice your age and half as skilled. What do you say?”

Cora’s mouth opens and closes. She looks to me and I nod in encouragement. My dad’s right. She is a natural. She’d be a great asset to the agency.

“Can I think about it?” she asks.

“Sure. It’ll take some time to get a new office set up. Let me know when you decide.” Dad stands to go.

“Thank you.” Cora leaps up and throws her arms around Dad. “For everything. You’ve given me so much more than I can ever repay. Thank you for taking a chance on me. And Beau. If he were here, he’d shake your hand.” She releases him and wipes away a tear. “Thank you.”

Dad clears his throat. “You’re welcome.”

I walk him to the door.

“You okay?” he asks.

“No, but I’ll live.”

“I take it things didn’t work out between the two of you.”

“Something like that.”

“I’m sorry. She’s…one of a kind. I liked the way she didn’t put up with your bullshit.”

“I did too.”

I close the door after him. There’s only one more goodbye to make. And it’s the hardest I’ll ever have to endure. How do you say goodbye to someone who changed your life? How do you go and leave a piece of yourself behind?

Chapter 35 Cora

When I first started visiting Beau I never thought I’d get used to the procedures you have to go through to enter a prison. Now they’re almost routine. What’s not routine is the jolt I get when I first see him. Time and repetition have not dulled that moment. It’s a shock every time. It’s no different this time, except the tears burning the backs of my eyes. We’re soldiers in the same war. I want to run to him and hit him hard, throwing my arms around him.

Instead, I walk sedately across the room and sit down across the table from him. I don’t comment on the fresh stitches above his left eye or the cuts on his knuckles.

“Hi,” I say in my most cheerful voice. “How are you?”

“Better than you.” He leans across the table, a line of worry between his brows. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I’m smiling, but a tear leaks out. “Everything’s great. You won’t believe what’s happened.”

“Did someone die?”

“No.” I sniff and wipe at my face. “Your case is being reopened. A judge agreed to hear the new evidence. The lawyers of the Freedom Project say there’s a really good chance you’ll be exonerated.”

“Are you serious?”

“It’ll take some time, but you could be free by Christmas.” I’m crying so hard now, it’s a wonder he can understand me at all.