Six Years by Harlan Coben

blink. My words diffused the hard glare, at least for the moment. “Just so I’m clear on this, you went to her wedding—were you still in love with her? Dumb question. Of course you were. You still are. So you went to her wedding, and while you were there, Natalie told you to leave her alone?”
    “Something like that, yes.”
    “That must have been some scene.”
    “It wasn’t like it sounds. We had just broken up. She ended up choosing another guy over me. An old boyfriend. They got married a few days later.” I tried to shrug it off. “It happens.”
    “You think?” Shanta said with the confused head tilt of a freshman. “Go on.”
    “Go on with what? I went to the wedding. Natalie asked me to accept her choice and leave them be. I said I would.”
    “I see. Have you had any contact with her during the past six years?”
    “No.”
    “None at all?”
    I realized now how good Shanta was at this. I had taken the position that I wouldn’t talk, and now you pretty much couldn’t get me to shut up. “Right, none at all.”
    “And you’re sure her name is Natalie Avery?”
    “That’s not the kind of thing you make a mistake about. Enough questions. What did you find, Shanta?”
    “Nothing.”
    “Nothing?”
    The waitress came back with a big smile and our iced teas. “Here are some of Judie’s fresh popovers.” Her voice was the happy song of youth. The popover scent rose from the table and took me back to my last visit here, yep, six years ago.
    “Any questions about the menu?” the perky waitress asked.
    I couldn’t answer.
    “Jake?” Shanta said.
    I swallowed. “No questions.”
    Shanta ordered a grilled portobello mushroom sandwich. I went with the turkey BLT on rye. When the waitress was gone, I leaned across the table. “What do you mean you found nothing?”
    “What part of ‘nothing’ is confusing you, Jake? I found nothing on your ex—zippo,
nada
, zilch. No address, no tax returns, no bank account, no credit card statement. Not-a-thing, no thing, nothing. There is not one shred of evidence that your Natalie Avery even exists anymore.”
    I tried to take this in.
    Shanta put her hands on the table. “Do you know how hard it is to live off the grid like that?”
    “Not really, no.”
    “In this day and age with computers and all the technology? It’s pretty close to impossible.”
    “Maybe there’s a reasonable explanation,” I said.
    “Like what?”
    “Maybe she moved overseas.”
    “Then there’s no record of her going there. No passport issued. No entry or exit in the computer. Like I said before—”
    “Nothing,” I finished for her.
    Shanta nodded.
    “She’s a person, Shanta. She exists.”
    “Well, she existed. Six years ago. That was the last time we had an address on her. She has a sister named Julie Pottham. Her mother, Sylvia Avery, is in a nursing home. Do you know all this?”
    “Yes.”
    “Who did she marry?”
    Should I answer that one? I saw little harm. “Todd Sanderson.”
    She jotted the name down. “And why did you want to look her up now?”
    You made a promise.
    “It doesn’t matter,” I said. “I should just let it be.”
    “Are you serious?”
    “I am. It was a whim. I mean, it’s been six years. She married another man and made me promise to leave her alone. So what exactly am I looking for anyway?”
    “But that’s what makes me curious, Jake.”
    “What does?”
    “You kept this promise for six years. Why did you suddenly break it?”
    I didn’t want to answer that, and something else was starting to gnaw at me. “Why are you so interested?”
    She didn’t reply.
    “I asked you to look a person up. You could have just told me that you didn’t find anything. Why are you asking me all these questions about her?”
    Shanta seemed taken aback. “I was just trying to help.”
    “You’re not telling me something.”
    “Neither are you,” Shanta said. “Why now, Jake? Why are you looking for your old love now?”
    I stared