“Okay.” She let out a breath.

“Then I’ll start eleven years ago.”

Here is what she told me over the next hour and forty minutes.

She had been twenty-three.

She had been working the front desk at the hotel attached to the conference center in Phoenix.

They had talked in the bar on the second night for three hours.

Logan had told her he was separated.

Not having problems. Not going through something. He had told her that he and his wife had been separated for four months, that they were sorting out the sale of a house, and that it was amicable and finished and sad.