“So you can move on to the Emmett one,” she huffs.
I shoot her a stare and we both start giggling. “Not a bad chapter, if I say so myself. I was going to get ready here but since you’re kicking me out for a dick appointment, I guess I’ll go back to the shop and get ready there.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m not missing my appointment. Plus, I’m sure Reggie is dying to do your makeup.”
It’s my turn to roll my eyes, but I’m grinning as I head back to her elevator, ready to face this new chapter.
“Where the fuck have you been, bro?”
“Language.” I hear the chuckle on the other end of the line. “I don’t care if you’re a badass Marine now or not. I’ve been busy,” I say to my baby brother.
“Work got you slammed?” he asks.
“Something like that.”
“Ooooh shit! It’s a girl!”
I hear the excitement in his voice and bite back a grin. As the baby, Everette has always been the most dramatic of the three of us.
“Okay, okay, tell me about her,” he says. “What’s she look like?”
“I’m not telling you shit. You’ll meet her when I’m good and ready to introduce her to your wild ass.”
More chuckling and then, “You worried, big bro? Scared I might sweep her off her feet?”
“She’d chew you up and spit you out, Ev. In fact, you meeting her may be a good idea. Knock you down a few notches.”
“I can’t wait.”
“Any news on your deployment?” I ask him.
At the question, his tone changes. “I’ve got about three weeks stateside then I’m out.”
I take deep breath before I respond. It’s part of the job, what we all signed up for. But since my injury last year, I’ve never worried more about my brothers. Getting shot made it real for me. I’m not invincible, and neither are they. It’s his first deployment and that’s always the hardest one.
“All right. I really do have some work stuff going on, but I want to fly out to see you before you ship out,” I tell him.
“Sounds good, bro. Bring your girl.”
“We’ll see.”
“Don’t be scared, I won’t steal her away. I mean I can’t help it if she wants—”
“Everette.”
Cackling laughter.
“I’ll talk to you soon, you little shit,” I tell him.
“Love you, bro,” he says.
“Love you too, man.”
I end the call and rest my head against the steering wheel for a few beats.
Pull it together, Emmett.
It’s our way of life. Just because he’s the baby doesn’t mean you need to get all emotional.
I take a deep breath and get out of the car, heading into the station to check in with Monica and see if we have any new leads, although I know we don’t. She would’ve called if we did.
Something needs to happen soon. Maybe we need to re-interview Lacey and be a little harsher this time.
I put a call out to Stacey to have her call me when she can.
Time to play hardball.
“I really should’ve made her pick a different restaurant.”
“Oh stop fussing. Close your eyes. Now blink,” Reggie demands.
There’s only an hour left until I’m supposed to meet Elizabeth and I’m already regretting this.
I usually do my own makeup, but Reggie always begs to do my eyes so tonight I’m letting him. We’ve had three customers wander in. One of them stopped to comment on the shade of eyeshadow Reggie was using. The other two ignored us, likely having been here before and knowing this is not that unusual here. You never know what you’ll get at Poe’s.
“She’s boujie as hell. Let her treat you to a nice restaurant instead of those burgers Emmett’s been bringing you every night. Live a little.”
“How about you mind your damn business about what I eat?” I joke.
“So touchy. Okay, look in the mirror.”
I do as he says, and I have to admit, he’s outdone himself yet again. I’d suggest he be a professional makeup artist, but I can’t have him leaving the shop. My green eyes look like polished jade stones, the browns and golds he’s used for the eyeshadow making them pop. My lashes are so long, if I blink quick enough, I may actually take flight. “Wow.”
“Mm hmm, thought so. Now go finish your hair and put your dress on. Text me when you’re about to come down so I can be ready for the grand entrance.”
I roll my eyes again but hop off the stool and head upstairs. There’s a note on top of the dress I laid across my bed earlier.
I can’t wait to take this off of you tonight.
-E
I pick it up, grinning, and tuck it into my desk drawer with my other keepsakes.
Forty-five minutes later, I’m dressed and ready to go meet Elizabeth. Mark is going to stay at the shop with Reggie and keep an eye on the shop, and Phil will ride with me. I try not to cringe at the thought. I don’t mind Phil as much anymore, and when this shit is solved, I may even be sad to see him go. However, I won’t be sad about getting my independence back.
I call Emmett to check in and let him know I’m about to leave, but it goes to voicemail. A few minutes later I get a text saying they’re working on interviewing Lacey again and he’ll probably be home late.
I run to the public restroom downstairs, spin around, and snap a photo of my ass in my dress to send to him, knowing he’ll be speeding later to get home as soon as he can.
I giggle as a few dings go off in my purse where I’d just stashed my phone. He’ll have to wait until we get there for me to reply. It’ll drive him crazy.
I say goodbye to Reggie and shoot Mark a warning look before I go, but I know I don’t have to worry. He’ll keep my employee safe.
The drive doesn’t take as long as I expected, probably because I let Phil control the playlist and I’m pleasantly surprised by his choice of music. We pull up to the fancy restaurant, stopping at the valet and handing him the keys to my very average car amongst all these very expensive ones.
I hear heels click up behind me and instantly know it’s her.
Deep breath, Raven. Deep breath. You can do this.
I spin to greet her. “Mrs. Davis!”
My eyes land on her and I take her in. It may have been years since I’ve seen her, but she hasn’t aged a day—no doubt thanks to the best plastic surgeons in North Carolina. She’s wearing a navy skirt and blazer, with a string of large pearls around her neck. Her shoulder-length blonde hair is perfectly styled, and her heels are still clicking across the cement as she approaches.
But her eyes are dead.
“Oh, Raven! Look at you!” She places her hands on both of my arms, looking over me like she’s inspecting me. “I love that dress!”
“Thank you. You look great, as always!”
“Psh,” she says, waving a hand, “I’ve seen better days.”
I ignore the comment, not wanting to go where that’s headed. I motion to the maître d’ and ask, “Ready?”
A knock on my door has me looking up from the paperwork on my desk, and I’m relieved to see it’s Stacey. I gesture for her to come in and she does so and sits down, a file in her hands.
“We need to crack her,” I say. “I know we’ve been playing nice, but I’m done with that now. We have no other leads, we have nowhere else to go with this. We’re just sitting ducks waiting for him to attack again.”
“I agree, and I’ve been studying her case file. I think we need to go in with a disciplinary tone. She has several markers in her chart that indicate she’s susceptible to authority figures, and I believe you and Alex weren’t intimidating enough. The approach Monica and I took was much too soft. I would assume whoever has hired her to work for them has figured this out about her. She answers to them not because she wants to, but because she needs the structure. She feels included. If we can go in like we’re ashamed that she would betray Raven by doing this to her and make her fe
el like one of the family members in Raven’s clique, we can establish a disciplinary tone and it may make her cave.”
“I’m on board with that, but I think it should be Alex who goes in and lays it down. She knows I’m involved and she won’t tell me anything.”
“Okay but if that doesn’t work, it may need to be you who goes in pleadingly.”
“That’s our last resort,” I say.
“Agreed.”
“Let me get Monica in here and we can go over a plan. Then we’ll go talk to Captain Harrison together. We also need to alert her lawyer and get the paperwork together,” I tell her.
She nods, and I shoot a text over to Monica.
“So, and I’m sorry for prying, but you and Raven Jackson?” she asks.
I lift my head from my phone, and say, “What about it?”
“I just,” she starts, blushing, looking a little flustered, “I didn’t know you were on the market.”
Oh.
Shit.
“Ha, well, I wasn’t looking, but it sort of fell into my lap right before this case started and we’ve gotten pretty serious.”
“That’s fast.”
I lift an eyebrow.
“I mean…gah, I didn’t mean that in a bad way. I know Raven, through the Psychology field, and she’s an awesome person. Complex, but awesome. I think you guys are great together. I’m sorry if it sounded otherwise. I have to admit I’ve had a crush on you for a while.” She bends her head to hide her blush. “But I think you’ve found a great match, and I’m happy for you.”
I’m taken aback. I can usually tell when someone is flirting with me or trying to get my attention, but I’ve never felt that from Stacey. “I appreciate your honesty. She is pretty damn awesome.”
Monica knocks on the door, saving the day.
I owe her another coffee.
“So we’ve got a new game plan?” she asks, plopping down in the seat beside Stacey, adequately breaking the tension that had crowded the room.
We enter the restaurant and I’m taken aback by the luxuriousness of it, but what did I expect? This is Elizabeth Davis we’re dealing with.
The hostess begins to lead us to our table, and Phil asks to be seated close to us, but Elizabeth interrupts him.
“Actually, I’ve reserved a special room for us,” she says. “You know how I hate being distracted during my meals, and with all the press lately…”
She puts a hand over her mouth, as if to stifle a cry and I eye her, turning to Phil to whisper, “Do you think you could just wait outside the door for us? I mean, she’s harmless.” I motion toward her and give him a smile. “She’s grieving, and she’s been through enough, you know? I’ll have the emergency alert button. I’ll press it if anything happens, I promise.”
He looks skeptical, his eyes shifting over to her and back to me, but eventually he nods, pressing the panic button firmly into my hand. “Don’t put it in your purse, don’t let go of it during the meal, and keep it out of sight.”
I’m not sure exactly how I’m going to manage that, but I nod anyway. He’s a little uptight, but this is his job.
Elizabeth sniffs again, pulling a tissue from her clutch and dabbing at her eyes. I’m a counselor, and I know this is my forte, but I hate when people cry. I don’t know what to say or do. Especially in this situation, when I’m the person who put her son behind bars where he was then murdered.
We walk through the restaurant and the waitress leads us toward the back.
There are small, intimate tables placed throughout the main area with white tablecloths and vases of flowers. The ceiling consists of exposed beams and metal work, giving it a modern air. There are couples seated throughout, some lifting their gaze to us, but Elizabeth hurries past them all.
I’m sure she’s gotten a lot of bad press lately with Landry’s death and is worried about being recognized.
Phil follows closely behind me, scanning the open room, and when we reach the back wall he goes into the secluded dining area first to make sure it’s clear before gesturing for me and Elizabeth to come in. He stands near the doorway and gives me a look, to which I squeeze the panic button in my hand and give him a small, reassuring nod.
Elizabeth goes to the coat rack in the corner and hangs her clutch there. She gestures to the table. “Sit down, love. Do you know what you’d like to eat?”
I take the seat facing the door, tucking the panic button under my leg in the seat so I can grab it if needed. I’m not sure it matters if Elizabeth sees the panic button or if Phil just doesn’t want anyone getting nervous or wondering what it is, but I keep it hidden from her just in case.
Opening my menu, I glance over the top of it to see her looking back at me, her eyes still a lovely shade of dead.
I used to envy her blue eyes. They were bright crystals, aquamarines. The light from them is gone now, and I wonder if she lost it when Landry went to prison, or when he lost his life a few weeks ago.
“I’m not sure. I think I’ll see what the waiter recommends,” I say.
We make idle conversation as we wait for the waiter to come back to the table.
Elizabeth is curious about the bookstore and what I do there, and why I decided to get out of counseling. I wish I had a better reason to give her other than I just couldn’t do it anymore. I wanted to help people, but I couldn’t leave it at work. I wanted to dissect their brains and find out what made them tick, but when I had the information I didn’t know what to do with it. I would lie awake at night, head spinning, anxiety throbbing, unsure how to help or what to do.
I remember a lifeguard from one summer when my mom used to take me to the community pool, making us kids swear if we saw another kid drowning we wouldn’t jump in to try to save them. She’d said in their desperation they might drown us, too.
Somehow that never sunk in for me.
So while I’m still licensed and intend to stay that way, for now I’m going to keep running the bookstore and assessing people from afar. Maybe one day I’ll go back to it. In the meantime, it’s a helpful skill to have with best friends who are rape survivors and an ex-boyfriend’s mother who’s grieving.
Red hair tangled and thrown halfway into a bun on the top of her head, eyes bleary and red, Lacey looks like a completely different person than she did just two days ago. I don’t think she’s slept at all. Gone is the delusional, air-headed party girl, and before me is a very pissed off inmate.
“You know, we could help you out of this situation if you just tell us what you know, Lacey,” Alex tells her, tone low and gentle.
“You don’t need to tell them anything because you didn’t do anything,” her lawyer parrots in her ear.
“I believe that you didn’t do anything. I really do,” Alex speaks again. “But I do think you know who’s behind the attacks on Raven Jackson and Elliott James. I think you have information that could help us put the right person away for this. It’s not fair that you’re sitting in a cell and he’s out in the world. Did you think he’d post bail for you? He hasn’t. He’s not going to. He doesn’t care.”
Lacey chuckles, the fire burning behind her eyes getting brighter.
“What’s so funny?” I ask her, but she just shakes her head and keeps staring at her hands.
“What did he tell you, Lacey?” Alex asks. “Did he make you feel like you were special? A part of his family? Are you scared of disappointing him? Look around. You’re here and he’s not. You’re being held here while he gets off Scott free. That was his plan all along,” he continues, all part of our plan to alienate Lacey from the attacker and then convince her to join our family and help us instead of him.
I can see her leg bouncing, faster and faster, like it’s a measure of her frustration or annoyance at having to speak with us again. Or maybe we’re getting to her.
Maybe it’s working.
“Listen, Lacey, can I level with you for a second?” I ask.
Alex shoots me a warning look. I’m going off script.
“Sure,” she responds flatly. The word is a challenge, one I’m going to rise to meet.
I pull out the chair across from her and sit down, looking her in the face, praying she can see the sincerity on mine. “I care deeply about Raven, and this case is personal for me. I know that doesn’t matter much to you right now, but you are the key to unlocking this entire thing. Raven trusted you, Reggie trusted you, and you’ve broken that trust to join forces with someone who doesn’t care about you. They do. Help us find who’s behind this. Join our team, earn their trust back. Let’s put this bastard behind bars and let them feel safe again. You have the power to do that. You know what he’s planning and how to stop him.”
I can almost feel Alex holding his breath, waiting for my words to sink in. She’s a wildcard. Her bloodshot eyes meet mine, and again, I’m taken aback by the intensity and anger there. She holds my gaze for a second, two, three.
And then she starts laughing. Uncontrollably. Tears coming to her eyes.
Alex looks at me and I shrug, unsure what to do.
Lacey’s lawyer throws his hands up, her cackles bouncing off the walls around us like a sickening melody.
And suddenly she stops.
The room is dead silent and it’s eerie, and then she says, “Of course you assume it’s a man.”
“Would you like some wine?” The waiter is holding out a bottle and I nod, gesturing to my cup.
Elizabeth declines. I’ve never seen her decline wine.
Ordinarily I would question if that meant I shouldn’t take some myself, if I was committing some high society faux pas by drinking what was offered and not requesting something more expensive; but the last five years have taught me to be firm in my decisions, so I stand by this one.
The waiter walks away, and I grab my glass, taking a gulp. We’ve danced around the subject long enough. A few more silent moments go by, and I can’t stand it any longer.
“Elizabeth, are you all right?” I make sure my voice comes out as concerned as I feel. I want to make sure she’s okay.
Nevermore Page 17
