"I have asked Colin for months." Nora folded the paper again. "Tonight I need an answer that doesn't depend on him choosing which version to give me."
I thought of the little overnight bag beside Sabrina's purse. I thought of the pause when I asked if Colin was at dinner. I was beginning to understand that the truth might already be in front of me, and that what I was fighting was not ignorance but the last part of my life that wanted ignorance to win.
The guest elevators were open to the lobby, and nobody stopped us from going upstairs. We stood side by side as the numbers rose. Nora watched the reflection of the floor display in the polished metal doors. I watched her hands. Her left thumb kept finding the edge of her wedding ring, pressing it around her finger as though testing whether it was still attached.
"Do you have children?" she asked as we passed the sixth floor.
"No. We talked about it, but never found the right time." I swallowed. "You have a son. Oliver?"
She looked up sharply. "How did you know?"
"Company holiday picture. Colin mentioned him once at a party."
"He's fifteen. He's at my sister's tonight, finishing a school project. He thinks I'm at the grocery store." She looked away. "I've spent his whole life trying to be the mother who tells the truth without frightening him. I don't know how to do that after tonight."
"You don't have to figure it out in this elevator."
It was the first useful thing I said to her, and I knew it because her shoulders lowered half an inch. The elevator chimed at the tenth floor. The doors opened on a quiet hallway with cream-colored carpet and lamps designed to make every corner look expensive. Room numbers passed beneath little brass plates: 1006, 1008, 1010. Room 1012 stood at the end, its door closed, a silver do-not-disturb sign hanging from the handle.
Nora stopped five feet away. "I don't think I can knock."
"I can."
"Don't be angry for me," she said quickly. "Whatever is in there, please don't be angry for me. I need to see it with my own eyes before somebody tells me how to feel."
I nodded. It was a promise easier to make than to keep. Then I raised my hand and knocked twice, not loudly, on the door.
Footsteps moved inside. There was a brief rustle and a man's voice asking who it was. I said my name. The latch turned after several seconds, and Colin Mercer opened the door just far enough to put his face in the gap. He wore a white shirt with the top buttons undone. The expression that crossed his face was so nakedly shocked it would stay with me longer than anything he said afterward.
"Reid," he breathed. "What are you doing here?"
"Is Sabrina inside?"
"Listen, this isn't—"
"Colin." I did not raise my voice. "Is my wife inside that room?"