“I don’t know,” Luna said. “It’s been a long time.”
Time wasn’t the problem. Griff had planted the idea of Owen’s guilt. Luna’s loyalty to Owen made that hard to forgive. Whatever feelings remained were frozen in time. She had to wonder what would be left once they defrosted.
“I’m happy for you, if that’s what you want,” Owen said.
“I don’t know what I want.”
Luna checked the time again.
“When are you supposed to meet him?” Owen asked.
“Two-thirty,” Luna said.
“It’s three o’clock,” Owen said.
“I know,” Luna said, thumbing a text.
Not going to make it today.
After she sent the text, Luna asked, “Why didn’t you just tell Griff how you knew what Scarlet was wearing?”
“I promised Mason.”
“You didn’t have to say Mason’s name. You could have said enough to squelch Griff’s suspicion.”
“He’s my brother. I shouldn’t have had to,” Owen said.
Luna could hear the crack in his voice. The wound was still fresh after so many years.
Her phone buzzed. She ignored it. Owen poured another drink.
“Luna, please don’t sabotage on my account.”
“I’m not,” she said. “It’s probably for his own good. People seem to die around me.”
“Us,” Owen said. “They die around us.”
There was comfort in sharing the accidental guilt. Intellectually, they might be blameless, but that didn’t matter. Statistically speaking, being in their orbit was more dangerous than that of most others.
“We’ve had some bad luck,” Owen said.
“People we knew had some worse luck,” Luna said.
“Yeah,” Owen said.
“What do we do if it happens again?” Luna asked.
The first-person plural comforted Owen. Forgiveness can happen swiftly when you have no framework for living without the other person.
“If what happens?” Owen asked.
“If someone dies and one or both of us is suspected of murder,” said Luna. “What do we do?”
“It won’t happen again,” Owen said.
“I hope not,” Luna said. “But if it does, we’ll need to take responsibility.”
“Okay,” Owen said. “If it happens again, we’re through.”
“Agreed,” Luna said.
Both of them knew they were lying.
For Mark & Beverly Fienberg
Acknowledgments
I’m writing this at the beginning of 2021, but you won’t read this until 2022. I’ll refrain from tempting fate with any bold fortunetelling. I think it’s safe to say this: I hope 2021 treated you better than 2020. Congratulations! You made it.
To Stephanie Kip Rostan, my agent, thanks for everything. I don’t know what I’d do without you. And thank you to everyone else who makes Levine Greenberg Rostan Literary Agency so wonderful: Melissa Rowland, Michael Nardullo, Miek (no, I did not misspell that) Coccia, Cristela Henriquez, and the rest of the team that I haven’t seen in years. I miss you guys.
Kara Cesare, thank you so much for helping me wrangle this book. Your notes were sharp and collaborative, and your patience and faith in The Accomplice kept me going while I was plagued by distractions. Jesse Shuman, you are a delight. Many more thank-yous to all the wonderful Ballantine people: Kara Welsh, Jennifer Hershey, Kim Hovey, Karen Fink, Debbie Aroff, Colleen Nuccio, and Scott Biel.
Loren Noveck, my production editor, you get your own paragraph. In general, I owe quite a debt to copyeditors. However, the debt with this book might be bigger than usual. And another big thanks to Kathy Lord.
Austen Denusek: You’ve already impressed me.
Itzel Hayward: Thanks so much for the legal advice and help working out that plot hiccup.
David Hayward and Ellen Clair Lamb, who read endless drafts and clean up my literary messes. As always, your help is invaluable. I never thank you guys enough.
Anastasia Fuller, your encouragement after reading a partial draft meant everything. While I’m on the subject of my family, I’ll mention a few more: Uncle Jeff & Aunt Eve, Jay, Dan, Lori, Mia, Ian, Kate, and Nancy.
Other thanks: Megan Abbott, for always keeping tethered to the outside world. Sarah Weinman, for her occasional wellness checks. And I’d like to apologize for my year-long Zoom boycott (Alison Gaylin).
Lastly, I’d like to thank all my West Coast friends. I love you all and I’ve missed you terribly. If you’re ever charged with murder, I’ll know you didn’t do it. And if you did, we’ll figure it out.