Chapter Sixty-Nine
Jules scans the packed ballroom of the Magnolia Hotel.
Though she’s pleased at the turnout, she knows the success of a fundraiser isn’t the head count.
It’s how big the checks are. She got some advice from an old modeling friend who turned her experience organizing runway shows into a lucrative event-planning business: Keep the booze flowing and don’t wear heels since you’ll be on your feet all night. Spot-on advice.
While everyone finishes their dessert in the soft lighting of the elegant room, Jules stands out of view in the wings of the main stage eyeing the VIP tables up front.
Pastor Jim is here with the leadership of Christ Church of the Heartland.
The megachurch’s grant was critical to tonight’s gala and to taking Find Them to the next level.
It’s also a lesson in judgment, Jules has learned.
She’d judged the church and its charismatic leader based on her preconceptions—televangelists of the past who’d fleeced their parishioners and done ungodly things.
But she’s come to respect Pastor Jim, his faith, and the comfort he brings his followers.
And that’s not just because the church’s donations now constitute half of Find Them’s revenue. At least that’s what she tells herself.
Jules’s gaze swings to her parents. Mom looks beautiful in a tight gown that shows off her figure, which somehow is defying the aging process.
Dad is not faring as well, the toll of Clare’s disappearance more apparent on him.
It doesn’t help that her little sister’s photo is among the dozens of enlarged photographs of missing women that are placed on easels throughout the ballroom—a reminder of why everyone is here tonight.
Jules brought the point home earlier in the evening by reminding guests that the perpetrator of the murder of two teenagers found in the trunk of a torched rental car near Yosemite Park in March is still on the loose.
She didn’t mention that the May Day Killer is also still hunting, but she didn’t need to.
Everyone knows. The date she chose for tonight’s gala wasn’t exactly subtle.
Her eyes jump to the back of the room. G-man Jack is here looking sharp, if stiff, in his tux.
He’d said it was to support Jules and the cause, which she thinks is true, but she also knows he’s probably studying the crowd.
Looking for anyone who fits the Bureau’s profile of May Day.
Also, he’s here to keep an eye on Jules, Carrie, and Lucy in case he makes a return appearance.
The FBI is still tracking him but the Bureau is facing an unprecedented number of active serial killers on the loose, and resources are spread thin.
Not to mention fears that a recent mass school shooting in Colorado might be a symptom of a contagion spreading across the country.
Which probably explains why Jack’s here without other agent support tonight.
Finally, Jules’s gaze lands on Quinn Riley.
He’s sitting with his co-workers from Midwest Investigators.
Quinn looks handsome perched next to his more weathered colleagues, ex-cops who seem uncomfortable in their rented tuxes but have made good use of the open bar.
Quinn sits quietly. He’s nothing if not consistent.
“If you don’t fuck him soon, I’m gonna do it,” Lucy’s husky voice says, as she and Carrie sidle up next to Jules.
“Lucy!” Carrie says, still always somehow shocked at the things that come out of Lucy’s mouth. You can take the girl out of the church … They each hold clipboards and have done an excellent job keeping the guests happy and the show moving.
“You’re up in five,” Lucy says, referring to Jules’s presentation of an award, the final event of the night.
Jules nods.
“Jules,” Carrie says in her sweet voice, all of them staring out at Quinn. “I think it’s time you tell him.”
“I’ve sent signals…”
“He’s a boy,” Lucy interjects. “They need a whack on the head with a two-by-four, not signals.”
Jules frowns. Anyway, what is it she’ll tell him exactly?
Over the past year, Quinn Riley has become a good friend, a real friend—one of their circle now—and she doesn’t want to ruin that if he’s not interested.
Is he interested? She senses he is. They spend every weekend together, hiking, brunch, movies—the stuff couples do.
But also the things friends do. He’s told her about his past relationships.
There was a girl in Italy. And, more serious, Holly, who used to be one of his brother’s caregivers.
Quinn regrets how he handled their relationship, how it ended.
He’s said that people he loves tend to experience tragedy, which make her think he’s made a conscious decision to be alone.
For her part, she told him what happened. About May Day, what she used to call her Death Day. She flashes on the memory of the night she told him everything. How when she was done he just sat there looking dazed, like a boxer the second before collapsing after a knockout punch.
“Say something,” Jules said at last. “Quote some Hemingway or some shit like you always do, but say something.”
Quinn brushed away a tear on her cheek, held her face in his hands, looked into her eyes. “Sometimes the words, they don’t come out like I intend when I’m not writing them out,” he said, apologizing for his silence.
“But I want to say that I’ve always admired you—marveled at you, actually—since you were a girl. But as a woman—what you’ve overcome, what you’ve survived, how you’ve helped people—you’re a rare and beautiful soul, Jules Delaney.”
In that moment, she knew.
As the servers float about the room filling coffees and bringing after-dinner cocktails, Jules straightens herself for the final act.
Lucy hands her a printout of her remarks, and she takes the stage.