I shrugged. “I was pretty good.”
“Do you miss it?” he asked. “Actually, never mind. I’m sorry. You told me you didn’t want to talk about it.”
“It’s fine,” I rushed to say. “We need to focus, okay?”
“Okay.”
It was hard for me to think about the police force without feeling a deluge of wrenching guilt and mortifying shame.
“Anyway,” I continued, “we need to help you become a brilliant liar. Undercover work is about immersing yourself in the persona you’ve created. Which should be easier for you because Henry Thornhill’s fake career is technically yours. A lot of the base knowledge is there already.”
A black sedan turned down the street, heading our way. “Get down,” I commanded, gripping the soft edge of his shirt. We ducked low and waited for it to pass, headlights crawling through the trees surrounding us. Our heads turned toward each other—both whispering as we waited to make sure the coast was clear.
“Delilah?”
“Yeah?” The windows of the car that had passed were tinted, which set my mind whirring.
“You can let go of my shirt now.”
I dropped it like it burned. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” he said. “Won’t we have to get used to doing things like that anyway?”
“Shirt-clutching?” I asked.
“Touching each other.”
“Uh, right,” I said. “We can sit back up now.”
I craned my neck as I did, attempting to get a license plate.
“Something off with that car?” Henry asked.
My senses were waking up. “Maybe,” I admitted. “We’ll see if it comes back.” Lights began to flicker on in various windows of Victoria’s house. “Okay, back to training.”
“I’m ready,” he said.
“Think about the backstories you create for every mistake you find in a book. You’ll be doing that for Henry Thornhill. And constantly. You have to get into the mind of this man that doesn’t really exist. So that as Victoria asks you questions or digs into your past, you answer right away. Correctly. And, as a rule, if she asks us both something we haven’t discussed, I’ll answer for us first.”
“So, for example, it doesn’t appear as if neither one of us knows how long we’ve been married?”
It was funnier now, absent of that night’s tension. So much so that laughter threatened to burst from me.
“I spent half of that conversation wondering if I should have sprinted for the emergency exit and run all the way home.” Henry grinned.
That had me laughing for real—but when he caught my gaze, I dropped it just as quickly.
“Focus,” I chided softly, a command more for me than him. “Have you given much thought to who Henry Thornhill is?”
“Some,” he said. “I don’t feel ready for Saturday night though.”
I was nodding—even as half of my attention was aimed at the mansion.
“I’m Victoria,” I said. “Ready?”
“I don’t—”
“How did you and Delilah meet?”
He was frozen, watching me.
“How did you and your lovely wife meet?” I asked again.
He dragged a hand over his mouth, mildly panicked.
“Henry.”
He blew out a breath. “How do you come up with ideas this quickly? I’ve already fucked up, and we’re only thirty seconds into the training.”
I mentally backed up, tried to recall hours of instruction from the police academy, from Freya. “Okay, I’m sorry. That was the wrong way to start.” I went to touch his shirt again but accidentally grazed his biceps. It was hard as granite. “Close your eyes. Let yourself truly imagine Henry Thornhill as a person. All his likes and dislikes, his random memories.”
He sat quietly for a minute, and I attempted to wrangle my impatience. But what other choice did I have? Abe had instructed us to partner on this case, and I was nothing if not a loyal foot soldier. But I was anxious to go, to hunt down Victoria, to respond to the seductive call of adrenaline that’d been thrumming in my bloodstream for two days.
“Imagine a time you’ve been madly in love,” I continued.
Henry cleared his throat. “What if I’ve never been madly in love?”
I shifted in my seat, happy he couldn’t see me. The last time I’d thought I’d been in love was Mark, and digging through those memories felt like sticking your hand into the creepy, dark space under your sink: half-convinced it’s fine, half-convinced you’ll land on a web filled with spiders.
“It’s like…um…an obsession. A craving that feels really good to give into. A sense of rightness. Completion.” I glanced at his profile in the darkness. “Does that help?”
“Yes,” he said. “Does it matter that I’ve never been married?” He opened his eyes now, watched me carefully.
“I’ve never been married either,” I said. “I guess we can talk to Victoria about…” I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel. “I don’t know, how we always fight over who does the dishes more?”
A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Right. I should definitely hate how loudly you snore at night.”
“I’ve never gotten along with your parents.”
“In-laws,” he sighed, shaking his head.
We shared a brief, private smile.
“But,” I said, stopping the game, “Henry and Delilah Thornhill eloped. They’re…passionate. Impulsive. True romantics. That’s what Victoria was responding to. Hold that at the center of your persona.”
“I’m obsessed with you,” Henry said. “I mean, not real you. Fake you.”
“Exactly. Let’s try again, okay?”
He flexed his fingers like he was preparing to fight. “Go.”
“How did you and Delilah meet?” I said again.
“An art lecture, about five years ago. It was specifically on the topic of the feminine expression in twelfth-century—”
“Too specific,” I cut in. “The more colorful you make the lie, the less believable it is. Plus we need to stay simple.”
“You are a tough teacher,” he muttered.
I arched my brow at him.
“Go,” he sighed.
“How did you and Delilah meet?”
“At work. She used to come into the library. We’d talk about her favorite books.”
“Perfect.”
“Yeah?” he asked, surprised.
“Simple, to the point, not much to explain.” I switched back to my Victoria voice. “Why did you decide to become a consultant, dear? You’re obviously extremely talented.”
A low laugh rumbled from his chest. “Feels like I’m sitting next to real Victoria.”
“Who would have spotted your lies a mile away by now.”
He stared out the window, as if the answer lay tangled in the branches of the tree. “Tick-tock,” I said.
“Bureaucracy. Too much red tape, you know?”
I snorted.
“You like that one?” he asked, face bright.