Omaha, Nebraska

Nick knew he should wait.

He grasped the steering wheel a bit too tight, took the left turn a little too wide. He wasn’t even sure why he was angry, but he knew he should wait until he calmed down. It would be better if he and Tony sat down across a table from each other, over a cup of coffee or maybe even a beer. It would be better if he waited.

He glanced at Tony who was staring out the passenger window of the rental car. That was one bad thing about his trips back to Nebraska. He missed his Jeep. There was a lot of thinking a guy could do taking the long way home in his Jeep. He could let off some steam by getting off the beaten path, kicking up some dirt, feeling the challenge of some rocks and mud beneath him. It just didn’t work in a rented Oldsmobile Alero.

The Jeep wasn’t the only thing he missed. Over the last several years there were plenty of things that made him feel as if he was split between two homes, maybe even two worlds. Some days his move to Boston felt like the right choice, the best thing that had happened to him. It had allowed him to get out from under his father’s shadow and expectations. Besides, he liked his job as deputy prosecutor for Suffolk County. He had met some incredible people, including Jill. But on days like today, it felt as though he had never left Nebraska, that it simply wasn’t possible when there were still so many connections, so many pieces of himself that had stayed behind. So much of who he used to be still floated to the surface, despite his attempt to change and to move on. His impatience—as he was certain his sister, Christine, would be happy to agree—was one of those flaws.

“What the hell’s going on?” Nick blurted out, deciding he couldn’t wait.

“Pretty weird, huh? That something like that could happen?”

“No, what’s weird is that you think you can pull something over on me.”

“Excuse me?”

Finally he had his friend’s attention diverted from the passing scenery.

“Detectives Carmichael and Pakula might have let you get away with all that dancing around because they don’t know you. I know you, Tony. You’re not fooling me. And you know what, you didn’t fool those detectives, either. They’ll be bringing you in again for more questioning.”

“What are you talking about? I already answered all their questions.”

“Oh, yeah, you answered their questions, all right. You know what it reminded me of?” Nick tried to calm his anger down a notch. “Remember in sixth grade when we kidnapped Mrs. Wilkes’s antique vase off her desk because she always made us come up with those stupid poems about it?”

“They were supposed to be haiku.”

“Yeah, well, see, that’s even more lame.”

“I remember,” Tony said, but from the look on his face Nick could tell he had a different memory of the event, one that didn’t instill shame and guilt like Nick’s.

“We hated that ugly vase,” Nick continued. “We wanted it gone. But we really were just going to hide it in the closet for a while. Make her sweat, then find it and be her heroes.”

“Still sounds like a brilliant idea,” Tony said, laughing.

“Yeah, brilliant. Only you dropped it.”

“It slipped out of my hands.”

“And it shattered into a thousand tiny pieces.”

“It was an accident.”

“Principal Kramer called us into his office,” Nick said, now pleased that Tony’s renewed memory was not quite as pleasant as his initial one. His sudden defensive tone was accompanied by his arms crossed over his chest, and his interest in the scenery was no longer convincing. “He asked if we stole Mrs. Wilkes’s vase. You told him no. It wasn’t a lie because we called it kidnapping. He asked if we broke the vase. You told him no. That wasn’t a lie either because you accidentally dropped it. I felt like we were back in Principal Kramer’s office again. You sidestepped all of Detectives Carmichael’s and Pakula’s questions.”

He took a long glance at his friend, catching his eyes if only for a brief moment. “I gotta ask, Tony. What the hell are you lying about?”

Nick expected more sidestepping. He expected Tony to get angry with him. Instead, he simply said, “I can’t tell you, Nick.” And he looked away, to stare back out the window, closing the subject and keeping Nick completely in the dark.