The Prettiest One: A Thriller by James Hankins Page A

than in other parts of Smithfield. The first stop on the Caitlin memory tour was the Fish Place, which, according to Bix, was the pub where they had first met, and also happened to be her favorite place to eat. Also according to Bix, the place didn’t serve any fish but rather was named after Ted Fisher, the owner. At the Fish Place, you ordered steak or chicken that came with sides of potatoes. In addition to no fish, there was also a complete lack of pasta on the menu. There was salad for those who insisted on it, but the servers were reluctant to give you one unless you also ordered something that had at least a decent chance of clogging an artery somewhere down the line.
    Stepping into the restaurant, Caitlin was disappointed to find that the Fish Place wasn’t the least bit familiar to her. It smelled great, though, despite giving her the feeling that she was putting on weight merely by breathing the air in here. But though she remembered reading one time that smells were possibly the most powerful memory triggers—and the aromas here were certainly powerful—it felt as though she were visiting this restaurant for the first time. Rough wood floor, a bar along one wall, booths along the other, tables in between, and two pool tables in back where Bix said he had first laid eyes on Caitlin. There were light fixtures hanging from the ceiling and a long string of Christmas lights running around the perimeter of the place, even though it was October. They probably stayed up year-round. She recalled none of it.
    A smiling young woman walked toward them, menus in hand. She wore a pale blue T-shirt with a white graphic of a smiling fish head on it. “Hey, you two,” she said with what seemed to Caitlin like familiarity. “Got a friend with you for dinner tonight, I see.”
    “If you say so, Candace,” Bix replied.
    The woman laughed in the way that people do when they’re pretending they understand a joke that they weren’t actually in on. “This way,” she bubbled, heading toward an empty table, of which there were several, given that it was still a bit early for most folks outside of Florida to be eating dinner.
    On the way there, the bartender called out to them, “What do you say, Bix? What’s up, Katie?” Bix responded and urged Caitlin to wave, which she did, and to smile, which she tried her best to do.
    They arrived at their table and Candace said, “Here you go,” as she placed menus in front of three chairs. She leaned toward Caitlin and, tipping her head theatrically in Josh’s direction, said in a faux stage whisper plenty loud enough for all to hear, “So who’s the cute guy, Katie?”
    They had decided that Caitlin should pretend to know everyone she would be expected to know, so as not to attract unwanted attention, but she had no idea how to answer the hostess’s question. She knew she couldn’t say, “He’s my husband,” though that’s how Josh would want her to answer, because this woman thought Caitlin and Bix were a couple. So instead, she just laughed and sat down. Candace seemed to understand pretty quickly that she wouldn’t be receiving a response to her question, and if she were disappointed, she didn’t show it. She said, “Tim will be serving you guys again tonight. He’ll be right over to take your drink orders.”
    Candace left their table and Bix said, “I think she likes you, Josh. Hey, Katie, why don’t you put in a good word for Josh with Candace?”
    “She knew my name,” Caitlin said, ignoring him.
    “Not your name, Caitlin,” Josh said. “The name you were using for a while, remember?”
    “That’s right,” Caitlin said. “That’s what I meant.”
    “No shit, she did,” Bix said. “I told you we’re regulars here. Your favorite is the steak tips on toast, by the way.”
    “They’re good here?”
    Josh let slip an exasperated sound.
    “Sorry,” Caitlin said, “but I’m hungry.” She generally wasn’t much of a carnivore, eating red meat