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The realisation sobers her up instantly.

‘I probably should get going,’ Ruby says quickly, her discomfort refusing to leave her alone this time. ‘It’s getting late, and I have to be somewhere.’

‘You keep running away on me,’ Tom says, frowning as she stands up from the table. ‘Can I at least have your number and take you out for a proper meal next time?’

‘I …’ Ruby does not know how to respond. Feeling, suddenly, that she has been backed into a corner and has been the one, foolishly, to put herself there. She is trying to come up with a response that won’t embarrass either of them when Tom stands up too, comes to her side of the table. Before she has time to register what is happening, he reaches out, pulls her toward him. She thinks he is offering a farewell hug, but instead his hands go to her face, and his sour-wine lips push down hard against hers.

‘Sorry, I couldn’t resist,’ Tom says when he pulls away from the kiss. ‘I have been wanting to do that all afternoon.’

Ruby feels as if she is going to burst into tears.

‘I really have to go,’ she says, trying to hide the quiver in her voice. ‘Thank you for … for the wine, Tom.’

(We placate, we soothe. Anything to get ourselves out of there.)

If he senses defeat, Tom’s smile doesn’t falter.

‘I’ll give you some time to change your mind on that date, Ruby’—it is only now that his smile turns to a slight frown—‘and, until then, be careful around here. Like I said to you before, it’s not the safest place for a woman on her own. Shake your head at me all you like. But what on earth were you doing in the park that morning? When you found the dead girl? She was out here, taking her pictures. But you have no excuse, when there are a thousand other places to go for a run.’

‘I misjudged the weather,’ Ruby responds after a time, no other answer possible. ‘And I guess I thought you could never really be alone in New York City.’

‘Indeed,’ Tom’s eyes flick to the other diners at the cafe, and then back to her. ‘Just promise me you’ll be more careful from now on.’

‘Thank you, Tom. I appreciate your concern,’ she manages to reply, before they finally, mercifully, part ways.

Ruby retreats along the river, knowing, without looking back, that Tom’s eyes stay on her as she goes. She has a fleeting thought, not unlike the one she had the day of her police interview, when she passed the young man at the front desk of her apartment building and felt him watching her, that Tom might know where she lives, might follow her all the way up to her room if he could. This makes her so uneasy that she breaks into a run and does not stop until she is streets away from the park, streets away from him, those tears she has been holding back now spilling over.

What was it she had thought when she first sat down with him today?

This is what happens when you don’t trust anybody, least of all yourself.

Is it possible, she wonders, her chest heaving, and her legs shaking, that she has gone the wrong way, yet again?

It is a thought she decides to follow no further, as she turns and heads for home.

The night of Ruby’s accidental date with Tom, a message comes through from Lennie: Josh finally told me what happened. He’s a dumb ass, but it’s not entirely what you think. Text me back. I miss you xoxo

Another text comes in from Sue: I’ve left you a dozen messages, Ruby. Call me back, please.

And from Josh, not long after: I know you’re mad at me. I would really like the chance to explain things. In the meantime, I found something you might be interested in …

He sends her Noah’s address. Reduces the map of New York to one pulsing dot.

It’s as if I have been waiting for this all along.

When Ruby shows up at Noah’s door, he is not entirely surprised. He had been expecting something like this. That someone with a connection to me would eventually seek him out. Still, to meet the woman who found my body is its own shock; he assumed it would be someone from my past. As he shakes Ruby’s hand, invites her in, he resolves to never ask her anything but the barest details about that morning. It is the one thing he won’t ever want to know.

He offers Ruby tea, coffee, whiskey, and she is tempted to go for the latter, though it is only 9 a.m. Noah sees the gleam in her eye, and decides, immediately, that he likes this Australian woman; anyone unfazed by the idea of liquor at this hour is okay by him. Franklin also gives his seal of approval, nosing at Ruby’s hand when she sits down, asking for a scratch. He looks for me still, the old mutt, and he finds me sometimes, too. But this morning I remain at a careful distance, anxious for this meeting to go well. For Ruby, yes. But for Noah, too, who is just as lonely as she is. My New York bookends, the man who let me stay with him, and the woman who stayed with me.

They talk a little about themselves, and then Ruby takes a deep breath, asks the question she has carried around since that morning by the river.

‘What was Alice like, Noah?’

He stares at Ruby for the longest time, knowing how important his answer will be. When he finally speaks, his voice has an uncharacteristic tremble.

‘Alice was rough around the edges. Uneducated, yet the smartest young woman I’ve known. She absorbed information like a sponge, and then she dripped what she learned all over the floor. She was beautiful, yes, but far too quick for loveliness. There was nothing lovely about her. She was raw and unfinished, and

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