Free The Innocence Game by Michael Harvey Page A

meaning much, except everything. After about a hundred yards, we sat down again. I thought I saw a shadow along the water’s edge, but it was just a breeze off the lake. Sarah found a smooth stone and tossed it into the darkness.
    “It won’t be like this for much longer, you know.”
    “Be like what?”
    She flicked a hand at a scatter of lights in the distance. “Like this. Northwestern. College. Grad school. Make-believe.”
    “That’s what you think this is?”
    “Absolutely. And a lot of people freak at the prospect of it ending.”
    “You don’t seem like the type that’s gonna freak.”
    “No?” She rolled over on the flat of her stomach and played sand through her fingers. “First semester, freshman year. I’m sitting on a bench outside Norris. All by myself. Middle of the day. People walk by. I smile. They don’t know I’m alive. I tell myself everything’s going to be fine. I’ve always been popular. Then I look down at my hands. They’re clutching my purse in a death grip. Heart’s beating a tattoo through my chest.”
    “Why?”
    “My world was getting bigger. Would I measure up?”
    “You measure up just fine, Sarah.”
    “Four years later, sure. But there’s always the next step. The next level.”
    “You afraid of that?”
    “Sometimes. Other times, I’m desperate for it. For anything real.”
    A wild shiver of wind ran through us.
    “It’s getting chilly,” I said.
    “What happened today, with the two detectives, you think that’s something…”
    “Real? Hard to say. Sure felt like it.”
    “Havens scares me a little,” she said.
    “He probably should.”
    “Let’s talk about something else.”
    “Okay.”
    She rubbed the edge of her foot against mine. “I’m glad we took a swim.”
    “Me, too.” I paused. “Maybe it should be our secret.”
    “Are you ashamed of me, Ian Joyce?”
    “Please.”
    She kissed me on the cheek and traced the curve of my face. “It would never work, anyway.” Her voice hovered now, barely above a tipsy whisper.
    “I know.”
    “But it could have been fun.”
    “Maybe it’s better not to talk about it.”
    She was quiet again, and we listened to the surf.
    “Friends?” she said.
    “For sure.”
    We sat in the dark and watched the waves, a mostly empty bottle and our stillborn romance lying on the sand between us. After a while, it got too cold, even for Sarah. I offered her my jacket, and she took it. We held hands and walked the rest of the way back to campus. I made sure she found her car. Then I walked home. My head hurt from the alcohol, and I wondered how well I’d sleep. But it wasn’t a problem. I closed my eyes and the waves were there, heavy and thick, sweeping me into the deep reaches of the lake, where I waited for the rip to take me under.

18
    I woke to the sound of a knock downstairs. Jake Havens was at my front door.
    “It’s Sunday morning, Havens. What do you want?”
    “Thought we’d pick up Sarah and grab some breakfast. Unless, of course, she’s already here?” He shot a playful look up the stairs.
    “Fuck you.” I pushed him into the kitchen. “Wait here while I get dressed.”
    I pulled on some clothes, listening for footsteps as Havens explored my house. But I found him right where I’d left him, at the kitchen table, reading the morning
Trib
.
    “Still nothing about the body in the cave,” he said and pushed the paper across. “By the way, why do you have me copying things when you have a photographic memory?”
    “I don’t have a photographic memory.”
    “Show me what you came up with.”
    “What about Sarah?”
    “She can wait.”
    I pulled out my notes. Havens pored through them while I made coffee. When he’d finished, he stacked the pages into a neat pile and folded his hands over them.
    “Good stuff, Joyce. Stuff I can use.”
    “I’m thrilled.”
    Sarcasm appeared to be yet another thing that had no effect on my classmate.
    “You want to see what I’m working on?” he