by Emily James
Scott’s theory had a certain amount of logic to it. The vandalism hadn’t been random. Devon Glover had taken the time to try to write a specific message—to tell me what he wanted me to do. He wanted me to keep my mouth shut.
Which wasn’t even the same message as the man who attacked me. The man who attacked me wanted me to close the shop and leave town.
“So you think we’re dealing with two different people?”
“The patterns are too different for it to be the same people, don’t you think?” Scott’s breathing picked up, as if he were power walking now to get back home or back to his car. “The one thing we know the brother did was very hands off. He came in the night and wrote a message. That’s deescalating.”
He had a point. Someone who killed might then physically accost another person. But why downgrade to a spray-painted message, then go back up again?
“The police aren’t investigating the case anymore. They think they have the right person.”
A car beeped in response to a key fob, and then a door opened and closed on Scott’s end. The background noises died out. “What about Claire’s cousin who’s the cop?”
Dan had only been involved recently because it seemed like the present-day case had a connection to the past case. His involvement wasn’t even official since Dan’s family members had been the ones killed and almost killed by Ms. Glover. He’d been kept in the loop only as a courtesy, and of course, because he’d been the one to convince me to testify. I didn’t have any sort of leverage with the Detective who was actually in charge of the case—a Detective Labreck.
I certainly didn’t have any influence with Detective Austen.
“It’s not his case.”
“Could you see if there’s anything he can do to convince someone to reopen the case?”
“I’ll ask him.”
An engine roared to life on Scott’s end. “Call me back right after.”
I disconnected the call with Scott and peeked out my office door. A couple and a singleton with a computer sat at the tables. Three people stood in line, but Claire seemed to have it under control.
I wasn’t technically supposed to be out front anyway. Claire had taken one look at the gash across my forehead and decided we didn’t need the kind of rumors that would circulate if customers saw my face in this condition.
I was all prep work today and preparing orders for pick-up. That could all wait.
I closed the door again and dialed Dan’s number.
As soon as he picked up, I explained Scott’s theory. “Detective Austen didn’t even tell him Devon Glover’s connection to me. Do you think there’s any chance of convincing Detective Austen and DA Hall that they’ve got the wrong guy?”
“First of all, we don’t know if he is the wrong guy.” Dan’s voice had that let’s slow down and take a breath tone.
I flopped down into my chair. “Sometimes your calm nature can be infuriating.”
The words were out before I realized I was going to say them. My body tensed instinctively. I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t have—
“So Claire has told me many times.” Dan sounded like he was trying not to laugh for fear of aggravating me more.
What he didn’t sound was angry or insulted. In fact, he almost sounded…happy that I’d told him he was frustrating at times.
Something snapped into place in my brain. No, he didn’t sound happy because he frustrated me. He sounded happy that I felt free enough—safe enough—to tell him.
In the past, when I’d felt frustrated with him or upset, I’d backed away. This time, it’d just come out.
“I can tell you more of your flaws later if you’d like.” I put a smile into my voice, so he’d know I was teasing.
“Only if you let me tell you all your good qualities in return.”
I wasn’t sure I was at a place yet where I could believe any of the things he might say, but it felt like I’d come one step closer. “I’d like a raincheck on that.”
“Anytime. As for the case,” Dan’s voice sobered, “I don’t think there’s any chance of Hall or Austen re-opening the investigation unless we have a more convincing suspect to present to them. Especially since we brought them the idea of this being related to the Glover case in the first place. Right now, all the focus is on strengthening the case against Devon Glover for when it goes to trial.”
I could see that. If we went to them now and said we’d made a mistake or didn’t believe he was the one, we’d look like we were trying to cause trouble. “I did tell Detective Austen that I couldn’t be sure the voice matched.”
“She’s working under the belief that he tried to disguise his voice.”
Which I’d also considered. Austen was doing her job and doing it well. She had brushed it off, though, when I said he didn’t smell the same. She’d chocked it up to cologne or a new laundry detergent.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Dan said, “but this isn’t my case, and my caseload is heavy right now.”
Scott and I couldn’t ask Dan to neglect the cases he was supposed to be investigating in order to undermine another detective’s work. Not only would that cause friction within the department, but it’d also mean those other families who depended on him didn’t get the help they needed.
“I’ll text you if Scott or I can think of anything or anyone else.”
We disconnected the call.
Maybe Scott and I were tilting at windmills like Don Quixote and his hallucinations. My dad used to always use Don Quixote as an example to me when I came up with crazy stories to explain something simple as a child. He’d said there was nothing wrong with imagination as long as we were able to remember where the line between fantasy and truth lay.
Scott could be, as I first suspected, unable to accept this because accepting it meant accepting his dad was gone. I didn’t have that problem, but I did know that being on high alert felt more normal to me than being happy and at peace. Even in the moments when I was sitting around watching a movie with Dan and Janie, I’d sometimes tense, my body anticipating pain despite the situation. Maybe I was still subconsciously more comfortable being in danger. Not that I wanted to be in that state, but that it was the state of least resistance for me after it being the status quo for so long.
I redialed Scott. “There’s nothing Dan can do unless we have a better option for them.”
“I might have that. Do you remember that my lawyer was supposed to set up an appointment with Edwardo Sharp, the man who’d asked about buying the property?”
That hadn’t been long ago, but it felt like it had. “I actually had forgotten with everything else that’d happened.”
“That meeting is set up for tonight. I might as well keep it. If Edwardo Sharp seems suspicious at all, it could give support to our theory.”
I guess it was our theory now. Scott had proposed it, but he’d mostly convinced me. At the very least, I wanted to help Scott find the closure he needed. If I hadn’t indirectly caused his father’s death, I’d also sleep better at night.
“What’s you plan?” I asked.
“I’ve done enough business deals with my dad when I was apprenticing in the summers. I know what a prospective buyer should act like and the questions he should ask. If he seems off, we can ask Claire’s cousin to at least run his name through the system. If everything is normal, all I’ve lost is a couple of hours of my time.”
The plan was sound. There really was nothing to lose. “Just be careful okay. Don’t make him suspicious that you think he’s anything other than a buyer in case you’re right.”
“Yes, Mom.” Scott’s tone said he was teasing rather than actually annoyed at my protectiveness. “And Isabel?”
“Yes?”
“Even if it turns out Devon Glover did kill my dad while waiting for you, you have nothing to apologize for. You’re doing the right thing testifying. You’re not responsible for the choices anyone else makes, no matter how much someone tries to make you feel l
ike you are or no matter how much you second guess yourself.”
My throat felt like the air was once again being choked out of me. He was talking about the situation with Devon Glover and his dad, but he might as well have been talking about my relationship with Jarrod. He’d always blamed me when he hurt me. If I hadn’t made him angry, he wouldn’t have hit me. If I’d taken better care of the house or met his needs better. If I’d only been different.
Scott’s words shone back into all of that and cut away the fog. Intellectually, I’d always known I wasn’t to blame for what Jarrod did, but my heart had a harder time believing it. Scott’s words made it feel a little truer for my heart.
Even though it was inadequate, all I could think to say was, “Thank you.”
23
“Watch this, Isabel!” Janie called.
I turned from where I’d been helping Dan wash up the dinner dishes.
Janie stood inside the kitchen door, holding the cat toy we’d picked up for Pirate when I got her from school. The toy was a garishly colored bird, complete with florescent feathers, attached to a stick by a long string.
Pirate crouched at Janie’s feet, tail twitching and his gaze laser-beamed onto the toy. Considering Pirate spent most of his time napping next to Janie as she played, seeing him even follow the toy into the kitchen was a success in itself. The vet had told Dan and Janie at Pirate’s most recent check-up that he needed to lose some weight, and so far nothing had motivated Pirate to abandon his favorite activity—sleeping.
Janie twirled the toy in the air in a weird spastic imitation of flight. Pirate wiggled his bottom and then launched himself into the air, almost reaching the height of Janie’s shoulders.
She swung the toy again. “We did two laps of the living room before this too.”
I gave her a high five. “Way to go. Dr. Gerry will be proud at Pirate’s next check-up.”
“We’re going to do more laps.”
She took off into the living room again. Pirate raced behind her.
I turned back to the dishes, but Dan had stopped washing and was looking at me. His expression was soft, like he would have been happy to watch Janie and me for hours.
“She asked me yesterday why you live with Claire rather than with us.”
I glanced back at the door Janie had exited through. She’d been asking a lot more questions lately. The last one was how I was related to them. Apparently most of the people she spent time with outside of school were part of their huge extended family.
This new question felt more challenging than that. I picked up the dish cloth I’d been using to dry the dishes and twisted it around in my hands. “What did you tell her?”
“That you couldn’t live with us because we aren’t married.”
Dan shifted back to the sink and plunged his hands back into the water. I moved to his side.
He let the words hang in the air as if he wanted to put it out there as an idea for me to think about. Like he wanted me to know he’d thought about the future and what might happen between us if I filed for divorce from Jarrod.
We hadn’t dated. We hadn’t kissed. Thinking about a permanent future with Dan probably should have seemed strange given those things, but it didn’t. It felt like the thing I’d want the most if I were free.
I wouldn’t have thought I’d consider remarrying, even if I had found a way to gain my freedom from Jarrod and didn’t have to always be afraid of him. I wouldn’t have thought I’d ever be brave enough to try again.
But standing next to Dan at the sink, drying while he washed, listening to Janie play in the other room, I could picture it. I could see us as a real family.
My eyes burned, and I blinked fast.
I wasn’t free. And if I tried, Jarrod would kill me. If he thought Dan was anything more than a casual friend, if he thought Dan knew the truth, he’d probably kill him too. Where would Janie be then? Assuming she didn’t end up a pawn in Jarrod’s plan to punish me.
I couldn’t risk that. I wouldn’t risk that.
My phone vibrated from where I’d left it on the table after clearing away the dishes.
Scott’s name flashed on my screen.
I slid my finger across the screen to answer.
“Did you change the locks like we talked about?” Scott asked.
Shoot. I should have told him, but the locksmith hadn’t sent me an invoice yet. “We did. Each door has a fresh lock and a dead bolt now. I haven’t sent you the bill yet because I haven’t received it.”
“Don’t worry about that. Send it along as soon as you receive it.” Scott’s voice was strange, overly casual and light. “Right now, I need you to bring me a set of keys. I’m about to show the property, and I forgot that the locks were changed.”
That explained his weird tone. It was his professional voice. I was used to normal, casual Scott.
He was probably also embarrassed. Whether Edwardo Sharp was his father’s killer or not, Scott’s young looks combined with him not having the key undermined him.
“I’ll bring you copies right away.”
“Thanks. I’ll be waiting at the bakery.”
I didn’t have time to make another set of keys. That would be asking them to wait another half an hour at least as I drove to a hardware store and had them copied. I’d give Scott my set and make a copy of Claire’s keys tomorrow.
I turned back to Dan and explained the situation to him, leaving out the part where Scott was showing the building to a potential murderer. Leaving out the part where Scott was showing the building at all. Dan would ask why, out of concern for Claire and I losing the shop, and that would lead back to the potential murderer part. Dan wouldn’t approve of Scott’s choice, but it was Scott’s choice.
Besides, Scott wasn’t going to confront the man or do anything suspicious, and he wouldn’t be there alone. He’d have a real estate agent with him.
I grabbed my purse and drove to the shop. Scott stood out front, but he was alone.
I climbed out of my car. “Where’s Edwardo Sharp?”
Scott stamped his feet and blew out a breath that turned white as soon as it hit the cold evening air. “I got here early, so I could open the place up.”
His voice had that same forced light tone to it. I’d been wrong before. It wasn’t his professional tone at all. He was nervous.
I would have been too. Even though this was a potentially normal situation, it was also a tense one. He might be meeting face-to-face with the man who killed his father.
I unlocked the first lock, switched keys, and unlocked the dead bolt. The alarm system beeped, and I typed in the code. “Take a couple deep breathes.”
Scott nodded. He stepped inside. Even though his breath wasn’t creating white clouds anymore, his chest rose and fell deeply.
“I didn’t expect to be this nervous,” he said.
“Keep these, and I’ll make another set.” I slid the two keys off my key ring and handed them to him. “Shouldn’t the real estate agent be here already?”
Scott slid the keys into his pocket. “What real estate agent?”
My throat spasmed. Had I misunderstood? “You were planning to show the place alone?”
Scott continued his deep breathing. “Of course.”
Oh no. That was a bad idea on so many levels. I lowered my voice even though we were alone. “If this man killed your father, you can’t be here with him alone. He might try to kill you as well.”
“Why would he do that? If he wanted to buy this building, and I look like I’m going to sell it, he has no motive.”
I wanted to rub my hands over my face, but I kept them at my sides. “We can’t be sure that was the only motive.”
Scott turned a shade of milky gray, and his breathing kicked up again. “I just assumed…I didn’t think…”
“I’ll stay, okay?” The words were out before I had a chance to question them. I couldn’t leave him here. If something happened to him, I’d never forgive myself for abandoning
him. If there were two of us, we had a much better chance of staying safe.
Scott nodded. A bit of color came back into his cheeks.
The bell above the door jingled. “I hope I’m not early.”
Cold darted through my veins, stiffening all my limbs.
I knew that voice. It was the same one that hissed threats into my ear while choking me.
“Not at all.” Scott’s voice was light and confident now. He sounded the same as he had when he was playacting for Claire and me when we first met. “I’ve asked the tenant to join us. She knows the property better than I do at this point.”
Run, Fear screamed in my head.
Pull yourself together, my rational self demanded.
I’d known this was a possibility. That was the whole plan after all. I just hadn’t thought through the implications of staying. I guess I hadn’t been totally convinced that Devon Glover wasn’t the one who’d attacked me. Part of me thought Devon was the guy.
I was sure now. Comparing this voice with Devon’s voice left no question.
I couldn’t let on. I pasted my Jarrod-smile on my face, the one that even a trained FBI agent hadn’t been able to see through.
I turned, but I didn’t extend my hand to shake his the way Scott would have. Every self-preservation panic neuron in my body was firing. If he touched me, I might lose my control. “I was happy to help out.” I dialed my smile up a notch until it was at full intensity. “I’m hoping you’ll continue letting us rent the place.” I cocked my head to the side even though my stiff neck protested. “At the same rate, of course.”
“I wouldn’t dream of evicting good tenants.” Sharp’s voice had a natural growl to it.
I forced my vision to focus. We might need to give a description of him to the police afterward. Edwardo Sharp might not even be his real name.
The man was handsome in a hard-wrought way. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Unsmiling lips. A tattoo peeked out from the collar of his suit and another from the cuff of his sleeve. Even his body looked solid under his suit jacket.
