by Beth Yarnall
“Have you gotten a call or not?”
“This is why you called?”
“Yes.”
I can hear the liquor sloshing in the bottle and his audible swallows. “No.”
“Would you let me know if you do get a call?”
“No.”
I control my sigh so that he can’t hear it through the line. “So you did get a call?”
“I’ve got to go. I can’t talk about this. You know that.”
“I know. I’m not asking you to talk about it. I just need to know if you got a call like the one Mom got or not.”
“Your mother got a call?” This is his way of asking about Mom but not really asking about Mom.
“Yes. She came to see me about it today. I thought maybe you might’ve gotten one too.”
“She came to see you?” More sloshing and swallows.
“She asked about you.”
He’s silent so long I have to check my phone to see if we’re still connected. Then finally, “What did you tell her?”
“Just that I saw you on Father’s Day. The call upset her.”
“How upset was she?”
“The usual. So did you get a call or not?”
“Yes.”
“What did they say?”
“Why the fuck should I remember?” Deflecting. I learned a lot about this at my Al-Anon meetings.
“Was it from a private investigator?”
“No, goddamn it. Someone from the DA’s office. I gotta go.”
“Wait. When did they call?”
“In the morning. I think. Woke me up.”
So pretty much sometime when the sun was up.
“Did you get a name or phone number?”
“Why do you always have to put your problems on me? I’ve got enough of my own. I really gotta go.” He hangs up.
The fat orange cat stares at me with the same accusation that was in my father’s voice. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, tilting my face toward the sun. My dad wasn’t always like this. He was a musician with the most beautiful voice. He could play guitar like no one I’d ever seen. Every once in a while when I’m digging in the used CD bins at Goodwill I’ll come across an album he played on as a session musician. Even if I didn’t see his name on the jacket I would recognize his playing anywhere.
As far as I know he hasn’t picked up a guitar in five and a half years.
Chapter 16
Leo
The minute Cora walks back into the office I know something’s wrong. My instinct is to go to her and hold her, but she’s got her don’t-fuck-with-me face firmly in place. If I make a move to comfort her I’d likely lose an eye or get my nuts shoved up into my throat. She’s a tough one, my Bluebird, but not tough enough for the world she lives in.
She tosses her empty water bottle in the trash and drops into her chair behind her desk. “My dad got a call from someone in the DA’s office. No name. No number. And no, I’m not going to ask him to get the number from his phone. It’s a landline, so maybe we can pull his records. The call came in the morning/afternoon-ish, sometime on some day. That’s all I’ve got.”
“It’s likely we’ll run into the same issue that we ran into with the number your mom gave us, anyway, so having the number wouldn’t make a difference.” I say this partly because it will make her feel better and partly because it’s abso-fucking-lutely true.
“Why is somebody calling my parents about my brother’s old case?”
“I wish I knew.”
“And why would they tell my mom they’re from a PI’s office and my dad they’re from the DA’s office? What are they trying to get from them?”
“Did either of them tell you what questions were asked?”
“Of course not. Again, that would be helpful. Why should they do anything remotely resembling helpful?”
I don’t know what to say to her to make things better. I understand few things about Cora’s life up until now. The things I do know about her are tragic and twisted. Every day she fascinates me more and more. How has she survived and thrived in this world that has done nothing but deal out one fuck-you after another to her?
“And these are the first calls either one of them has received about the case?” I ask. The timing…
“The only calls they ever got were from reporters. Everything else went through Beau’s attorneys.”
“Have you told anyone that you’re working with us on the case?”
“Only my friend Jamie. My mom obviously knows I’m working here. I gave her and my dad my new work info for emergencies, but I didn’t tell them why I’m here.”
“Hmm.” My suspicious mind circles the possibilities.
“What does ‘hmm’ mean?”
I’m not sure I should tell her. The likelihood of those calls being unrelated to Cora’s sudden involvement with our agency is slim to none. Again, the timing…Why now and not a year or more ago? Could the real killer be monitoring her progress on the case? Could we have hit on something or be about to hit on something big?
“You think it might have something to do with me working here, don’t you?” She jackknifes upright. “It’s the killer, isn’t it? Oh, my God.” She’s up and pacing, her hands flapping out in front of her like they’re on fire. “He’s watching me. That’s—”
“We don’t know that. I’m just spinning possibilities here.” I place myself in front of her to get her to stop pacing. “Hey.” I take her chin in my hand to get her to look at me. “It’s all right. It could be a reporter, looking for a new angle. It could be anything. We don’t know for sure who is behind this or why.”
“But why now? No one gave two shits about Beau’s case except the media at the time of the trial. Why suddenly all this interest? You can’t tell me it’s not suspicious.”
She’s right. I can’t tell her that because it is so fucking suspicious it has me worried for her. We’re talking about a rapist and murderer who managed to cover up his crimes for more than five years. He’s clever enough to use a burner phone to call Cora’s mom and bold enough to call both her parents.
“It’s suspicious. But…but it might not mean anything.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it. Nobody cared about Beau’s case all this time and now out of the blue two phone calls? I don’t buy it.”
Yeah, I didn’t think she’d really go for that bullshit. “What do you want to do?”
“I want to find out who that son of a bitch is.”
“Only the government can track burner phones. We’d have to know where the phone was purchased to have any hope of surveillance catching him on camera. If he’s smart—which I’m betting he is—he’s already ditched the phone or phones he used to call your parents.” Wow. I just impressed myself there with how much I know about investigatory stuff.
“So it’s a dead end.”
“Pretty much.”
She lets out a frustrated noise and pulls away from me to start her pacing again. “How did he know to call my parents? Is he watching me? How much does he know about the case? How is he getting his information?”
Her questions are good and valid. If only I had answers for her. “We need to bring my dad in on this. He might have some answers.” Or create more questions.
She hangs her head out into the hall, then pops back in. “He’s still in his meeting.”
“Come here.” I hold my arms out.
She looks like she needs a hug. Or else I’m projecting. This shit just got real. I’m scared for Cora in a way I’ve never been scared before. To my surprise, she walks right to me and hugs me hard.
“It’s going to be okay,” I tell her.
“I know it is, because we’re going to track that asshole down and put him in prison where he belongs. Nothing’s changed here except that he outed himself. He’s exposed himself in a way he never has before and I want to know why. Something we did triggered him to walk out of the shadows. We’re going to keep doing what we’re doing and draw him out ev
en more.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
“Yes, it is.”
“No, it’s not.” I push on her arms to see her face. “There’s more at risk here than freeing Beau. He knows who you are and what you’re doing. He knows who your parents are and enough about them to call them. He probably knows the same or more about you. You live alone. Do I have to say it?” I sound desperate, because I am. She wants to taunt a rapist and murderer.
She blinks up at me. I can see that she’s not listening to what I’m saying or else she heard me and is rejecting it. Either way, I don’t like it.
“That cat didn’t protect Cassandra and it can’t protect you.” I lay it out bluntly. “She’s dead and now the man who killed her could be after you. Is this what Beau would want?”
She jerks away from me. “Don’t you dare use Beau against me.”
“I’ll use whatever I have to to get you to listen to me. You’re not thinking this through.”
“What do you expect me to do? After all this time I finally, finally, have a possible lead on this asshole.”
“We’re taking this to my dad and whatever he decides is what we’ll do. We’re out of our league here, Bluebird. Don’t you see that?”
“Of course I see it. I’m not an idiot. I’m also not going to tuck tail and run. I’ll hear what your dad has to say and then I’ll decide how to proceed.”
“You’re not putting yourself in jeopardy.”
“Yes, Dad.”
It’s my turn to growl in frustration. Half the time I want to kiss her and the other half I want to punch a wall.
I stalk past Cora to the reception area. “When is my dad’s meeting going to be over?” I ask Savannah.
“It should wrap up soon. Why?”
“Does he have another appointment after that?”
“No.”
“We need to talk to him. Can you make sure he doesn’t leave before we get to?”
“Sure.”
“Thank you.” I stomp back into Cora’s and my office. “He’ll be finished soon.”
We glare across the room at each other, our arms folded across our chests. I’m not sure I can out-stubborn her any more than I can talk her out of doing whatever it is she’s planning. Because I know she’s planning something. I can see it in her bold blue eyes.
A door down the hall opens and my dad’s and a couple other guys’ voices drift into our office. His meeting is over. Savannah tells him we want to see him. He comes in to find Cora and me still in our standoff, glaring at each other.
“What’s going on here?” he wants to know.
I fill him in on the phone call to Cora’s dad, the burner phone, and the conclusions we’ve come to about the whole thing. I want him to tell Cora…Oh, hell. I don’t know what I want him to tell Cora. We can’t stop looking for the real killer. She has me over a barrel there. She won’t ever give up on searching for the real killer and he’ll likely do anything not to be found. Catching him solves the problem, but it also leaves Cora exposed.
“He’s revealed himself,” Cora tells my dad. “He’s never done that before. Somehow we drew him out. We have to keep doing what we’ve been doing and draw him out further. He’ll make a mistake, and when he does we’ll catch him.”
“We’re not cops,” Dad points out. “We have no jurisdiction to do anything to him. The only thing we can do is keep working the case.”
“What if he goes after Cora?” I ask. “She lives alone just like Cassandra did.”
Dad contemplates this. “Do you have someone you can stay with or who can stay with you?”
“The only person I could ask is my friend Jamie, and I’m not going to put her in the middle of this.”
Dad’s attention swings in my direction and his scowl deepens. He knows what I’m thinking and he knows I won’t say it without his being one hundred percent on board. He warned me off Cora and I didn’t listen then, but this is so much bigger than my attraction to her—this is her life. I’m aware I have shit for experience. My life until now has left me completely unprepared for what I’m about to volunteer for.
Dad gives a brief nod.
“I can stay with you,” I say. “Sleep on the couch.”
Cora’s gaze lasers in on me with the precision of a military drone. Again I’ve offered myself to her with absolutely nothing to recommend me. I proved once that I’m not totally useless to her. Maybe I can do it again if she gives me a chance.
I see the struggle in her expression and the moment she comes to a decision. “Okay.” It’s not quite the enthusiastic victory I wanted, but it’s close enough.
“Do we need to have another talk about workplace decorum?” Dad asks.
Cora’s eyes widen a fraction and she presses her lips together. She thinks this is funny.
“No.”
He gives me the stern dad stare that says he means it. Cora is off-limits. Except I already blasted past and ignored those limits and I’m likely to keep right on doing that. Provided Cora’s on board. Her part is yet to be decided. I’m still proving myself, and when I’m not I’m waiting for her to make room in her crowded life. The body is willing, but the mind is not. It’s her mind that I’ll have to convince that we deserve a chance. She can have more than Beau’s case. She can have anything she wants. If only she wanted me.
“Good.” Dad looks to Cora for confirmation. “You okay with this?”
My ears pound and my gaze narrows to where all I can see is Cora.
“On the couch,” she confirms, for me more than for my dad. She’s setting the limits between us and I’m just going to have to honor them.
“On the couch,” I vow. I’m surprised at how much I mean it. The usual me would already be trying to find a way around the rules. That won’t work with Cora. Nothing about her is usual and neither is whatever it is going on between us.
“Okay, then,” Dad says. “Leo, can I talk to you for a moment in my office?”
“Sure.” I follow him and take a seat as he closes his office door.
Sitting at his desk, he opens the bottom drawer, pulls out a small case, and hands it to me. I already know what’s inside. I’ve coveted it since I was a kid and he first showed it to me. It’s his backup piece from when he was a police officer.
“I want you to take this,” he says. “Keep it loaded.” He sets a box of ammunition on top of the case. “You don’t have a permit to carry, but we can take care of that. For now it’s enough that you’ll have it at night just in case. I don’t want you taking any chances. If anything, and I mean anything, at all happens, I want you calling 9-1-1. Don’t be a hero. This gun is a backup plan. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“When was the last time you went to the range?”
“A few weeks ago, with Brandon.”
I don’t own a gun, but my cousin and uncle own an arsenal. We go to the range whenever I come home from school. Coming from a long line of law enforcement officers and former military, it’s practically in my DNA for me to love guns. Dad taught me not only to shoot, but to respect firearms. He taught my sisters too. It was the one cool thing about having a dad who’s an ex-cop private investigator.
Dad nods. “All right, then. You’re all set.” He pauses and I know what’s coming before he even thought to say it.
“I know,” I say. “Respect her limits. I will. I do.”
“There’s something about her…I don’t know. It brings out the dad in me, I guess. I don’t mean to be hard on you. It’s just that she needs…protecting.”
“I feel the same, except for feeling fatherly toward her.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, I got that.”
“Thanks for this.” I stand. “I’ll take good care of it.”
“I know you will. Remember—9-1-1.”
“Got it.” I stop at the door. “One more thing. Savannah’s mom has stage-four cancer. I don’t know what kind. She might have to go to some doctor appointments with her. She wanted me to let you
know and to keep it between just us.”
“Damn. I knew something was up with her, but I thought it had to do with you.”
“So did I. Learning the world doesn’t revolve around me was quite the wakeup. Anyway, that’s what’s going on with her.”
“Okay. Thanks for telling me.”
“Sure.”
“And Leo?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re a good kid.”
I leave with the case in hand and my dad’s words echoing in my head. I know I’m lucky. My dad trusts me with more than his favorite gun. He trusts my word and that I’ll do my best to make sure that Cora is okay. Now if only I can live up to all that trust.
Chapter 17
Cora
We stop at Leo’s parents’ house for him to pack a bag. I’m not excited about having a roommate, especially one who pushes all of my buttons, even the ones I didn’t know I had. I’m used to living alone. I’ve been on my own for a long time now, nearly a quarter of my life. I like being alone. Having him there is going to be awkward and weird, and I’m not sure how long I can be on my best behavior. I’m not hostessy. Jamie is the only person who has ever spent the night at my house and I’m ashamed to admit that most of those mornings I couldn’t wait for her to leave.
Leo’s parents’ house looks a lot like the house I grew up in. The neighborhood with the toys in the yards, the dads out doing whatever dads do in garages, and the occasional dog walker give me an unexpected nostalgic pang. I took it for granted that things would always stay the same and that someday I’d bring my own family back to my childhood home for a visit. I don’t imagine a converted garage apartment would have the same effect.
He opens the door and the sound hits me first. A dog barks. Female voices drift from somewhere at the back of the house and the play-by-play of a baseball game blares at us from the left. Mr. Nash sits in a recliner with a beer in hand. For a moment I tense and then I remember that not everyone drinks to forget until the blackout of oblivion turns him into someone you don’t recognize or want to know.
“Hey, Dad.”
Mr. Nash raises a hand, his concentration on the game.
“Come and meet my mom,” Leo says to me.
