by Jill Orr
“Huh,” Rhonda said. “Well if that ain’t the darndest thing!”
“What?”
“To have the same name as your first cousin.” She laughed. “I’ll bet that got confusing around the family table!”
CHAPTER 21
There are two Shannons in the Miller family?” Holman asked.
We were in the waiting room of Lindsey Davis’s office. We’d arrived a little early and her assistant Anna told us she was running about ten minutes behind, so I had some time to fill Holman in on what I’d learned from Rhonda.
“Yup,” I said. “Pretty strange—brothers choosing the same name for their daughters, don’t you think?”
“Maybe it’s a family name? Or perhaps Charlie’s Shannon was born after his niece Shannon passed away…maybe the name is a tribute to her lost cousin?”
“Yeah, could be.” I had my doubts, but no point in speculating. “Either way, this changes things. Flick told me to remember the name Shannon Miller. Up till now I thought she was long gone. Now it seems there’s a Shannon Miller who is very much alive.”
“Yes.” Holman paused, then changed topics. “I take it you spoke to Jay earlier?”
“He came by this morning to tell me about Tackett offering information on Granddaddy. He didn’t know I already knew,” I said. “He also didn’t know about Flick.”
“Yes, I thought about telling him when it happened but decided against it. He wasn’t close with Hal, and I figured the last thing you needed at the funeral was the extra stress that seeing Jay brings you now that you two are no longer romantically involved.”
My instinct was to clap back at him, to deny that talking to Jay stressed me out, but then I remember how it felt standing in my kitchen this morning and I closed my mouth. He was right. There was a certain amount of stress that came from seeing Jay. Whether that was from unresolved feelings or the current situation, I suppose it didn’t matter.
“That was thoughtful,” I said. I checked my watch. It was now four minutes past our appointment time.
“Mother says hello, by the way,” Holman said. “She invited me to come to a dinner party she’s having this weekend, but I told her you’d already invited me to a The Great Gatsby–themed party.”
“Was she disappointed?”
“On the contrary, she seemed pleased. In fact, she said she had the perfect costume for me to wear. She’s having it couriered overnight to me.”
Sometimes when I talked to Holman, it seemed like he belonged to another generation. And sometimes, admittedly, another universe.
“She’s free now,” Anna said. “Let me show you in.”
Lindsey came out from behind her desk to shake each of our hands. She wore a slim-cut ivory pantsuit with a gorgeous champagne-colored silk blouse that perfectly complemented her dark complexion. Black patent oxfords added just the right amount of quirk and style to showcase her individuality. I took inventory of my own appearance. I had on a Forever 21 sweater that had the collar and hem of a shirt sewn in to it to make it look like I had a blouse under my sweater. Oh God, I thought, I’m wearing a dickey.
“Thanks for coming back, Will,” she said. “Sorry I couldn’t see you before.”
“It’s okay. I should have made an appointment.”
“Oh, normally it’s totally fine if you ever want to stop by,” Lindsey said, and then it was as if she suddenly thought that might have been too forward. She added, “Not that you would want to stop by, I mean, unless we have business to talk about. But, I mean, you could, if you wanted to…but whatever.”
Was Lindsey Davis, Ms. Hotshot Lawyer, getting flustered around Will Holman? This was priceless! Holman, for his part, looked like he didn’t know how to react. True to form, he just blinked at her. Twice.
“I know Jaidev Burman was here to see you this morning,” I jumped in, saving them from their awkward flirtation.
Lindsey motioned for us to sit down at the six-person table near the window. “Yes, Agent Burman was here. I’d spoken to him on the phone, but apparently he felt an in-person visit was necessary.” There was a cool edge to her voice. Note to self: Lindsey doesn’t take kindly to people invading her turf and telling her what to do. A woman after my own heart.
“As Tackett’s arresting officer, he’s been under pressure from his superiors at the DEA to get Tackett to give up sensitive information they believe he has about the Romero cartel. Is that about right?” I asked.
“Yes, and from what I could tell, the man is under a lot of pressure.”
I felt a flicker of pity for Jay. I knew him well enough to know this had to be hard for him. Jay was one of the most empathetic people I’d ever met. Even though we were no longer together, it had to be hard on him to be the thing standing in the way of me finding out the truth about Granddad. I looked down and tugged at a loose thread on my faux shirttail. “He’s a good agent.”
“Riley and Jay used to have a sexual relationship,” Holman said loudly.
“Holman!”
“What?”
I felt the telltale blotchiness of humiliation creep up my neck. I could have killed him! “I’m so sorry, Lindsey. That’s obviously highly inappropriate.”
The corner of her lip tugged up.
Holman, as unable to read a room as ever, continued: “What? I was just providing context. After all, it’s hardly fair to expect Lindsey to understand the sensitivity of the situation without knowing your history with Jay. Two people who have been intimate with each other are going to bring a certain amount of emotional baggage to the situation.”
“Will,” I said, through clenched teeth, “I don’t think we need to tell Lindsey my entire life story…”
“I wasn’t.” He looked from me to Lindsey and then back again. “I only told her the one detail of your past, your sexual relationship with—”
“Anyway,” I said, cutting him off and turning to Lindsey. “Yes, Jay and I have a past, but that’s not a factor in the situation that we wanted to talk to you about.”
“Of course,” she said, wiping her face of any lingering amusement.
I took a breath to reset. “We’re here because we went to talk to Tackett yesterday.”
“In prison,” Holman added, puffing up just a bit.
“He wants us to raise public awareness by publishing a story in the Times, reporting that he has information about the murder of one, possibly two, community members. He thinks this will persuade you to offer him a deal,” I said.
Lindsey responded with, “I see.” I didn’t know her well enough to know what she was thinking, but if the purse of her lips was any indication, she was thinking, Why does everyone think they can tell me how to do my job?
“Was he able to shed any light on what happened to Flick?” she asked.
“Not really,” I confessed. “But he said he might know something and he might be willing to share that with you.”
“I see,” she said again. “And I might be willing to hear him out.” It was clear she was perturbed with Tackett’s arrogance, which I totally understood, but I hoped it wouldn’t get in the way of her decision regarding whether or not to proceed.
“I—we—still think the two crimes are connected. Sheriff Clark said there’s documentation that proves Flick was seeking a meeting with Tackett the day before he died—so it isn’t just Tackett’s word. Their meeting didn’t happen, but it proves a connection.”
“The other thing you should be aware of,” Holman said, “is that Tackett says he has a recording of Albert’s killer confessing to the crime.”
Lindsey raised her eyebrows.
“And he says that person is a public figure,” I added. “I suppose he didn’t tell you any more than that?” she asked, a slight frown forming.
“No.”
“Listen, I know you’re in a tough spot,” I said, leaning forward. “But we really believe that Flick’s and my grandfather’s murders are connected, likely committed by the same person for the same reason.” I then
explained about Charles Miller and the record of Flick’s appointment at Silver Meadows. “He was trying to track something down—probably the same something my granddad was.”
Lindsey looked down at her notepad for several seconds. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking or which way she was going to come down on this. I held my breath.
“Okay,” she said after a few seconds. “I think the next step is for me to talk to Sheriff Haight. If—and it’s a big if—I’m going to consider offering to recommend some sort of reduced sentence to Judge Giancarlo, I will need to be certain that Tackett has credible, fruitful information.”
“What about the feds?” I asked.
Something glinted in her eyes, a little twinkle of steel, perhaps. “You let me worry about them.”
CHAPTER 22
I felt cautiously optimistic as Holman and I headed back to the newsroom. Lindsey seemed at least open to the idea of getting more information from Tackett about what he knew. And the fact that she was going to talk to Carl about it made me feel even better. Not only was Carl a good sheriff, he was a good sheriff in an election year. I knew he’d definitely want to be credited for apprehending an allegedly high-profile murderer who had killed one, if not two, of our own.
Ash and I had decided to cancel lunch since we were meeting after work for a drink and to talk about our costumes or whatever. I was too busy to spend much time on it, but it did strike me as odd how flirty Ash was being lately. While there’d always been an undercurrent of flirtation between us, now it seemed he was escalating things. Had he suddenly decided he was super into me? Or was he just lonely and looking for a hookup? I still wasn’t sure how I felt about that. I mean, I liked Ash, of course. I liked spending time with him—he was smart and had a wickedly dry sense of humor—and there’s no doubt I was attracted to him. My body practically hummed when he got close to me, but still. Something was holding me back, though I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what it was. Maybe I was just afraid of getting hurt again like I had with Ryan and Jay? Maybe I was just content being alone? Maybe I was just overthinking it like Ridley had suggested? If social media had taught me anything, it was that I might be the only woman of my generation who was unable to just turn off her brain and have some fun every once in a while. And Ash would definitely be fun.…
At about four-thirty, Kay asked me if I could run over to the post office and clear out the Times PO box. It was one of those jobs we all took turns doing and all complained about. It wasn’t that the post office was far away—it was only three blocks—but its supervisor, Theresa Fielding, was what my mother would call a “chatty Cathy.” When you walked in and asked Theresa how she was, she told you. In detail. Henderson once clocked her response to his polite How’s it going today? at seventeen minutes, forty-six seconds. This is why we only cleared out the box once every couple of weeks and always waited till the end of the day. If you went in during the morning, you might not make it back to the office before dark.
It had been gray all day, and now at twilight the clouds covered the sky. It looked like it could start raining at any moment, and with the temperature dropping that could mean freezing drizzle—my least favorite kind of drizzle. Despite the weather, I decided to take the long way along the sidewalk instead of cutting through Memorial Park. Inviting Praise, Mayor Lancett’s stationery shop, had a new selection of journals in the window. I had some Christmas money from my parents, and even though it should go into the new-car fund, I think we all knew it was probably going to go toward a new journal. There was just something so optimistic about all those beautiful notebooks full of blank pages. Some of mine were sentimental (they’d belonged to Granddaddy), some were made of handmade paper, some were cute and fun and said things like BE AWESOME TODAY. The one in the window I had my eye on was covered in fur and had multiple eyes and sharp teeth on it, like Harry Potter’s Monster Book of Monsters. It was really more pet than journal, which made it that much more alluring.
I checked my phone to see if I had enough time to get in and out of the store before the post office closed and decided I didn’t. I sent my monster journal a telepathic “You-will-be-mine” as I passed, and then because I wasn’t looking, nearly ran right into Jay. What the hell was he still doing here?
“Whoa—hey there, Riley.”
“Oh. Hi, Jay.” After an awkward pause, I apologized for nearly knocking him over and he said it was no problem. Then there was another awkward pause. Jay and I never had trouble making conversation before, but given the circumstances I guess neither of us knew what to say.
“So, you’re still here?”
“Yup,” he said. “I had a couple of other meetings in the area, so…” He shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels.
“Heading back soon?”
“Probably will wait another hour or so. If I leave now, I’ll just sit on the 95. Wait,” he said, suddenly animated, “did you ever get another car?”
I shook my head. “Ivan called me about a couple that he found at an auction, but it was right when everything was happening with Flick’s funeral and I just didn’t have the focus to make a decision.”
“Ivan’s the best,” he said. “He’ll take care of you. Until then, at least most places in Tuttle are walkable.”
“True!” I looked around, unsure where to take the conversation from here.
“Listen, Riley, what I was going to say before—about Chloe—”
“Jay—I’d really rather not get into it—”
“Why not?”
It was a good question and one that I didn’t exactly know the answer to. I had no idea why I was reacting so strongly to hearing about his new relationship. I just knew I didn’t want to talk about it, particularly not with him. After we broke up, I put a lid on the box containing all my feelings about Jay and as long as no one opened it, I could pretend they didn’t exist.
I looked down at the sidewalk. “I’m happy for you,” I said, wading in slowly. “I really am, it’s just…I guess it was just hard to see how quickly you were able to, you know, find someone new.”
“I know,” he said quietly. “But you have to know that if I’d thought there was any way that you and I could have had a chance…”
Something inside me gave way and the lid to the box popped open. “There was a way,” I said, fixing him with a meaningful stare.
Jay’s expression went from compassionate to confused in the space of a second. “What—stay here? Do you think I should have passed up the promotion? Did you expect me to give up my career for you?”
“No! Of course not,” I said, more than a little defensively. “But it was like you were gone the second something came along—”
“Well, how about you?” he cut me off. “There are plenty of newspapers in DC. You could have found another job. You could have come with me.”
I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “I don’t recall being invited.”
“Would you have come?”
I honestly didn’t know the answer. We had only been together for a few months, but our relationship had felt so solid, like it was really something special. And it ending the way it did felt like someone had ripped the needle off the record mid-song. Would I have moved to DC with him? Part of me thought that I would have considered it; and part of me thought that was a ridiculous idea. But there was no way to know now. I took a deep breath and said the only thing I knew to be true, “It would have been nice to have been asked.” And there it was. I hadn’t realized it until the words were out of my mouth, but that was the crux of the whole thing, the reason for keeping the box locked up tight. I looked up at him, feeling courageous and vulnerable at the same time.
He looked at me for a long moment before he spoke. “I didn’t think you’d even consider it.” There was a sad kind of resignation in his voice. “It just didn’t seem practical at the time.”
“It wasn’t,” I said. “I guess I was hoping for something that transcended practicality.”
“Riley—” he started to say, but then stopped himself. “Maybe I should have—”
“Don’t…please.” I wasn’t angry anymore, but I couldn’t listen to him explain all the reasons he hadn’t fought for us. In the end, there was only one reason that mattered: He hadn’t loved me enough.
He looked at the sidewalk, then turned his eyes toward the sky, anywhere but at me. It seemed like he wanted to say something, but after a few attempts, he ended up just putting his hands in his pockets and saying, “Fair enough.”
“Besides,” I said, “can you even imagine if we were still dating when this whole thing with Tackett came up?” I was trying to make a joke, but it fell flat. The situation with Tackett wasn’t funny for either one of us.
“My hands are tied. This is my job, Riley.” He was the one who sounded defensive now.
“Is that why you’re still here? Why you’ve been here all day? Are you working another angle to block Tackett from talking to us?”
He sighed and gave me a look filled with meaning, though I had no idea what that meaning was. “Goodbye, Riley,” he said and leaned down to kiss my cheek. His lips hovered there for a fraction of a second, long enough for him to whisper, “I should have asked.”
CHAPTER 23
See, that’s the thing about black ice—it’ll get you every time. This one time, my sister’s boy, Roland, was driving to church on Sunday morning…” Theresa Fielding was six minutes into her response to my comment, “It’s getting chilly out there.”
She would talk, then make a half turn like she was going to get the stamps I needed to buy, then stop and talk some more. I’d already cleared out the Times’s PO box and was holding an armload of mail.
“…the pastor told the entire flock to pray for him, which was real nice ’cause everyone knew Roland wasn’t exactly what you’d call a devout Christian. This one time…”
I’ll admit I may have taken the opportunity during her Roland story to zone out and think about my conversation with Jay. I should have asked…what does that even mean? Is he trying to express regret over not asking me to move to DC with him? And if he regretted losing me so much, then what’s with him moving on in record time with Chloe-the-Conceited? I mean, yes, it was true that I was starting to move on with Ash, but it had now been a respectable amount of time since our breakup. Jay started dating Chloe less than three weeks after we broke up. The more I thought about it, the more annoyed I got at that comment. It felt cowardly at best, false at worst.
