For a moment, she and I stood facing each other with the same terrible recognition between us: Randall had not built his deception out of nothing. He had built it out of our habits. My instinct to care for him. Elise’s instinct to protect me. Jonah’s anger. Wade’s loyalty. He had known where each of us would bend.
Wade reached toward a stack of memory cards on the table. “There are more recordings.”
“How many?” I asked.
“Enough.”
“That is not a number.”
“Twenty-three.”
Jonah swore under his breath.
Wade picked up one card, then another, reading the dates written in Randall’s narrow block letters. “Most aren’t long. Some are thirty seconds. A few are several minutes. He made them when he couldn’t sleep. When he wanted to call.”
“Wanted to call who?” Jonah asked.
Wade did not answer.
Jonah stepped closer. “Who?”
“All of you.”
