by Beth Yarnall
I take my seat opposite him and sit still for his inspection. I don’t flinch at his stare. I take him head-on.
“You have balls,” he says.
“Yep. Two.”
“What do you want?”
“I want you to stop jerking Cora around.”
He puts an arm on the table and leans in. “What the fuck is it to you?”
I mirror his posture. “Why don’t you give her what she wants?”
“I told her a thousand times to forget about me and get on with her life.”
“And how has that worked out for you so far?”
He makes a rude noise.
“You should know Cora better than anyone,” I press. “She’s not ever going to give up. So stop fucking jerking her around and tell her what she wants to know.”
“What’s the point?”
“Have you seen her files on your case?” I forge on, despite his stony silence. “I have. She has a whole damn box full of them. For the past five and a half years she’s done nothing with her life except fight for you. What have you done for her?”
“What am I supposed to do from here?” He sweeps his arms out wide. If I thought Cora carried around too much anger, it’s nothing compared to the rage that pumps off Beau. I can taste it at the back of my throat and feel it pushing at my skin.
“You’re a coward.”
Cold blue eyes that are nothing like Cora’s stare back at me. And yet the resemblance is there. Like a faded photo over a faded photo, there’s a washed-out sameness that bends my sympathy toward him. But I can’t show him that. I have to match his attitude, blank stare for blank stare.
“What do you want to know?” he finally says.
I don’t dare let out the breath I’ve been holding and go right for the jugular. “Why did you and Cassandra break up?”
There’s more fury-filled silence and then he leans in again. “That has nothing to do with what happened to her.”
“You don’t know that. There could be something in there. Or not. But I have to think that your reluctance to talk about it could be the thing the real killer is counting on.”
“I broke up with her.”
“Why?”
He does that thing with his hand that Cora does when she’s agitated—tapping the tips of his fingers on the tabletop, pinkie to index finger, pinkie to index finger, like a wave. “I’m going to say this so Cora will finally let it go, but you have to promise me you won’t tell her or anyone.”
I agree. I warned Cora that I might not be able to tell her everything Beau tells me.
“She got pregnant.” The shift in Beau is subtle and filled with pain. “We talked about keeping it, but in the end…I went with her to her appointment.”
“Why did you break up with her?”
“She had a hard time dealing with it. I tried to help.” Resting his elbows on the table, he scrubs his hands over his face. “Her parents are very religious. That’s how she was raised. The guilt ate at her and she took it out on me. We argued. A lot. I didn’t know how to fix things for her. Then she told me she met someone else and, I don’t know, I sort of lost it. I told her I never wanted to see her again.” He lowers his hands. “But that wasn’t true.”
“Was she seeing someone else?”
“Yeah. A few times.”
“Do you know who it was?”
“Ask her friend Maisy.”
“You don’t know his name?”
“Would you want to know the name of the guy your girl was cheating on you with?”
“Only so I could find him and punch him in the face.”
He cracks half a smile. “It was tempting. But then I’d have a name and a face to imagine her with.”
I change the subject. “The two of you were getting back together.”
“She called me one night and we talked. She apologized. I apologized.” He bows his head. “She cried.”
Cora’s tear-streaked face flashes in my mind and I feel for him. I hate it when chicks cry. I especially hated seeing Cora do it.
“What else did you talk about?” I ask.
“She told me about the strange things that were happening around her apartment.”
“Do you know if she ever called the police?”
“I told her she should call the cops. She said she would. We talked a few more times over the next couple of weeks. Things got…better. She invited me over to her apartment.”
“The night before she was killed.”
“Yeah.”
“You had sex with her.”
He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to. It was his DNA on and inside her body that hung him at trial.
“I loved her.” His softly spoken words echo inside me, reverberating in time with my heartbeat.
It takes a moment before I can find my voice again. “Thank you.”
I start to rise, but he reaches a hand out. “Is there really a new lead, like Cora said? A witness?” He pulls his hand back when I resume my seat.
“The downstairs neighbor, but we’re having a hard time finding her.”
“Mrs. Wheeler?”
“That’s the one.”
He rubs at his jaw. “She had a cousin who used to come and take care of her. Joni. No, Jodi something. Aagh. What was her last name?”
“Jodi Samuels. She’s dead. Can you think of anyone else who might know where she is?”
His harsh laugh has heads turning. “Just my fucking luck. Are you sure Mrs. Wheeler isn’t dead too?”
“There’s no death certificate and someone keeps cashing her Social Security checks.”
He’s quiet so long I start to shift in my seat. And then, “Zelda would know. Have you talked to her?”
“Cora tried—”
“But she wouldn’t talk to the sister of Cassandra’s murderer.”
“Something like that. I’m planning on taking a shot at her on my own. She doesn’t know who I am or that I’m working with Cora. I can come at her from a different angle—a law student investigating a local case, maybe.”
He studies me as though he’s trying to get a read on me. “You and Cora?”
Me and Cora. There are no words for me and Cora. “Not really,” I answer truthfully.
“Huh.” He does that quiet thing again where it’s like he’s trying to do a mind meld with me or something. “It’s because of me, isn’t it?”
“It’s because of a lot of things, but yeah, mostly you.”
He takes a moment to process this. “Ask me anything you want. I’ll answer. You can call. I get phone privileges once a week, so you don’t have to drive out.” He stands. “Don’t let her get away with that shit. I’d give up the rest of my days for just one more day with Cassandra.”
He disappears through a door before I can form a response.
I walk out of the prison into the sunshine to find Cora leaning against my car. Her head is bent over her phone. I walk straight up to her, lift her chin with a finger, and kiss her. She doesn’t react at first, and then she’s melting into me. This is the first time I’ve kissed her with her body up against mine. She feels so damn good. I move closer, pressing her between the car and me. She’s not very experienced, but I don’t care. I like it. She’s a very fast learner. Kissing her has been all I’ve wanted to do for weeks, and now that I am, I’m imagining so much more. I want to take her clothes off and lie down next to her. I want to explore her body and make it mine. I want so many things with her.
I break the kiss and look down at her, rubbing my knuckles across her cheek. She’s so damn beautiful. I get lost sometimes looking at her.
She wraps her arms around my waist. “What was that for?”
“Would you go out with me tonight?”
“Did Beau tell you something? Do you have a new lead on Edith Wheeler? What did he—”
I press a finger to her lips, cutting her off. “I’m asking you out on a date.”
“What? Why?”
The fact that she has to
ask makes me wonder if she’s ever been on a date. “Because I want to pick you up at your place, take you out for dinner, and kiss you good night.”
“I was thinking of talking to a friend of Beau’s tonight who knew Cassandra pretty well—”
I silence her again. “Tomorrow. Tonight you’re going out with me.”
“What the hell went on in there? What did Beau say? Did he—”
“I’ll tell you over dinner.” I walk over to the other side of the car and open her door. “Wear something pretty.”
She climbs in and glares up at me. “I don’t know what the hell happened in there or what Beau said to you, and I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know.”
I close the door and get in on my side. It’s a long ride back and a long time to dodge Cora’s questions. I turn up the radio and take her hand.
“Just enjoy the ride,” I tell her.
Beau’s whispered declaration of love for Cassandra haunts me. Somewhere out in the middle of the nowhere desert I decide I’m not ever going to give up on Cora.
Chapter 11
Cora
Something pretty. I don’t own anything pretty. I own useful and comfortable, and that’s about it.
Leo makes me leave the office earlier than I want to. He’s going to pick me up in an hour and a half. I don’t know how it got this far or why I haven’t stopped it before now. I shouldn’t be going on this date. I shouldn’t want to be pretty for Leo and I shouldn’t like him as much as I seem to. That last thought has me wondering again—how in the hell did this happen?
The other day I caught myself staring at him instead of at the computer screen. What’s the matter with me? He’s somehow wormed his way in through the cracks in my defenses. And the thing is I never saw it coming. There was nothing overt or forthright about his approach. He stole in like a thief and dismantled all of my defenses against him. I don’t protest at all when he takes my hand or hands me something I was just about to look for. I answer when he calls. I let him kiss me.
I pull up to my friend Jamie’s house and park. She still lives with her mother in the house she grew up in. Someone else lives in the house I grew up in. Some new family, pressing new memories into the walls and pushing my family’s out. Dad moving out during Beau’s trial was the beginning of the end. A few months later I came home from school to find a For Sale sign in our front yard. I never told Beau they sold the house. I didn’t have the heart to.
Jamie answers the door, chewing a wad of gum as big as her tongue. I don’t know what it is with her and gum. It’s some kind of oral fixation I don’t want to know the roots of. People say we look alike, but personality-wise we’re opposite in every way. Somehow we work. I don’t question it. I just roll with it.
“I’ve got just the thing.” She yanks me into the house and tows me down the hall to her room. It’s a mess—clothes everywhere. She pulls a couple dresses out of her closet and holds one up to me. “I like you in black, but not this one.” She tosses it on the bed and holds up another one. “This could work.” She hangs it on the door of the closet. “So tell me about him.” She does some more rifling through the racks.
“His name is Leo.”
Her head pops out. “Leo Nash?”
How did she…? “You know him?”
She snorts. “My brother played baseball with him. Girl, you bagged yourself a big fish if you’re going out with Leo Nash.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean he got drafted by the Pirates right out of high school, but he took the full ride scholarship to UCLA instead. Now I hear he’s in law school, top of his class. He’s already gotten a couple of job offers and he doesn’t graduate for another year. Plus he’s hot. Seriously hot. How did you meet him? Oh, right, his dad’s agency. Wow. Okay. This”—she shoves the dress she set aside back into the closet—“isn’t going to work. We need something special, sexy. Oh! I know just the thing.”
She digs around some more and comes up with a garment bag. “I’ve been saving this for a special occasion, but I think it will be perfect for you. Oh, man, are you going to knock him on his ass when he sees you in this.”
She pulls the garment bag away and I can’t believe how beautiful the dress is. I’ve never worn anything like it. I’ve never seen anything like it. I finger the fabric. The ivory Ultrasuede is buttery soft and surprisingly light.
She shoves it at me. “Try it on.”
I pull my T-shirt off and shuck my jeans. She helps me pull the dress over my head and zips up the back.
“Look at yourself.” She pushes me toward the stand-up mirror in the corner.
I turn from one side to the other, examining my appearance. The way it nips in at the waist makes it look incredibly tiny. There’s just enough cleavage that I’m not going to have to worry about bending over.
“I was going to wear that when I lost ten pounds.” She pinches her waist. “That was five pounds ago. It’s perfect on you.”
“I can’t.” I finger the price tag hanging under my arm. “This is new.”
“Shut up. Yes, you can. Oh! I’ve got the perfect shoes.” She dives into the bottom of her closet. After a few moments she comes up with a shoebox and lifts the lid. “These.”
Cobalt-blue leather slides sit nestled in white tissue paper. “No. I couldn’t.”
“Yes. Yes.” She takes them out of the box and shoves one into each of my hands. “Put them on right now. Do it.”
I slip them on and stare at my reflection. I’ve never worn anything so fancy and nice.
She bundles my hair at the top of my head with her hand. “You have to wear your hair up. Damn. You have no idea how pretty you are, Cora. He’s going to just die when he sees you.”
“It’s the dress. And the shoes. Are you sure, Jamie? What if I spill spaghetti sauce on it or something?”
“Don’t order spaghetti.”
“I can’t.”
“Wear it and the shoes, and we’re even. But you have to tell me everything that happens on your date. Ooooo,” she squeals. “I’m so excited for you.”
She doesn’t say it, but she knows this is my first date. Ever. I wasn’t nervous before she told me all that stuff about Leo. He was just Leo then, but now he’s like this unattainable, way-out-of-my-reach guy. I can’t do this. I’m going to call and cancel. No, I’ll text him, then turn my phone off so I can’t see his response and he can’t talk me into changing my mind.
“Don’t you dare cancel on him, Cora.”
I swear it’s like she can read my mind. “This is such a bad idea.”
“He obviously doesn’t think so, and neither do I. Go. Have fun. And then call me and tell me if he’s a good kisser or not.”
Heat creeps up my neck to my face.
“Oh, my God. You’ve already kissed him. Well?” She nudges my arm with her elbow. “How was it?”
I can’t speak. I don’t have words for how very much it was to kiss Leo Nash.
“That good. Damn. Good for you. It’s about time you got out.”
Jamie and I have been friends since the third grade. She’s the only one I have left from my life before. All of my other friends dropped me one by one until I looked around one day just after Beau’s conviction and realized they were all gone. And the odd thing was I didn’t miss them. I wasn’t the same person they’d befriended. I was someone new and unrecognizable. I didn’t understand the things they talked about. My life had taken a million-mile trip to places they never could’ve imagined.
“I don’t know,” I tell her. Because I don’t. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing dressing up. I don’t know how to act on a date and I don’t know what to do with all of the new information I have on Leo.
“Go. You deserve this. And I want you to know right now that if you don’t go out on this date I will never speak to you again.” She’s not serious.
“Why did you have to tell me all that stuff about him?”
“That’s what’s freaking you out?”
<
br /> “Kind of.” Yes.
“He asked you out because he likes you. That says more about him than anything I could say.” She takes me by the shoulders and turns me toward her. “Go out. Have a good time. Get your lipstick smudged by a hot guy. You deserve this more than anyone else I know. Beau would be so pissed if he knew that you’ve turned your life into a shrine to him.”
“I have not.”
She glares at me.
“It’s not a shrine,” I insist.
“Go on this date and prove it.”
“I don’t like you.”
“I’ve had a crush on Leo Nash since the eighth grade, so right now I’m not liking you very much either.” She smiles. “Wear this dress and those shoes and knock him on his ass.”
“Fine.”
I take the shoes, the dress, and the earrings she pressed into my hand before sending me home. I spend more time putting my makeup on and doing my hair than I ever have in my life. Normally I’m pretty minimalistic, but tonight I add a smoky eye shadow that makes the blue of my eyes pop and a shimmery lipstick that makes my lips look fuller than they are. Even with the extra time I took, I’m ready fifteen minutes early.
As I stare at my reflection, hardly recognizing myself, I wonder what Leo is going to think. And then I wonder why I care so much. And then I think about Beau and it takes everything in me not to rip everything off, scrub my face, and pretend I’m not home when Leo rings the doorbell. This feels all wrong. I can’t believe I let Leo bulldoze me into agreeing to this date. Twisting my hands, I pace back and forth in my small apartment. Oliver sits a few feet away, his tail curled around his feet, watching me with his accusing green eyes.
I can’t do this. I pull my cellphone out of my purse to text Leo when the doorbell rings. Oliver continues to stare at me. The bell rings again.
I’m sorry, I silently tell Oliver. His gaze bores into me and I’m trapped by the condemnation in his eyes.
Leo knocks and I jump. “Cora?”
