Chapter 20 #2
And without evidence, I was stuck.
“Maybe someone is trying to set Briggs up,” I said. “To tie him to both Lily and Harmony. That purse might just be a replica of Harmony’s. Maybe it was Lily’s.”
Without fingerprints, I wasn’t sure. I’d tried to hunt down a recent purchase on Lily’s credit card statements but there was nothing that had shown her buying a leather purse. I’d even stopped by some shops downtown to see if they sold it and no one had recognized it.
“If the purse was Lily’s, it would explain why it was in such good shape,” I said. “Maybe she bought it and never showed it to her mother.” And it would explain why it had been with the wallet. “She might have dumped both before . . .”
“Poor kid.” Pops shook his head.
“There’s one more option. Briggs might have been there the nights they died, and he took Harmony’s purse and Lily’s wallet.”
“And then left his trophies on a bookshelf for you to see?” Pops blew out a long breath. “It’s a stretch.”
“Maybe he doesn’t remember where he found them. Maybe he wasn’t lucid.”
“For Lily, it’s probable. From everything you’ve told me, he’s slipping. But Harmony Hardt died years ago. I don’t think Briggs has been experiencing severe symptoms for long. Let me play devil’s advocate. What if he was there? What if he had something to do with it?”
“I have no evidence.” Speculation, however, I had in abundance. “Someone could be setting him up. Someone who wanted me to think that he might have had a hand in their deaths.”
“Who?”
I shrugged. “The only person I’ve ever heard talk badly about him is Frank.”
“And that’s all old drama.” Pops waved it off. “Frank’s a good friend, but between me and you, he’s always had a bone of contention with the Edens. It’s jealousy. Plain and simple. So take whatever he’s told you with a grain of salt.”
“I have.” I sighed. “I just . . . I feel like I’ve let these girls down.”
“You want answers.”
“Very much.” For their families. “I’m missing a piece. Had Lily left a suicide note or had there been a sign she was struggling, I might not feel like this. But as it stands, I can’t let it go.”
“You need to.” Pops put his hand on my forearm. “I’m saying this as your boss. You’ve done everything you can to make sense of their deaths. But, Winnie, people go through dark times. You know this.”
“I do.”
“It doesn’t always make sense.”
“You’re right.” My shoulders slumped. “I was ready to put it away. To let it go. Then the purse and wallet showed up, and I just . . . gah. I hate dead ends.”
“They exist in this world to torture people like you.”
“You’re not wrong.”
“What’s Griffin say about all of this?”
Since our fight a month ago, Griff hadn’t brought up Briggs other than to give me an update on what the doctors had found.
Harrison had been taking him in regularly to meet with a specialist. There wasn’t much they could do, but they’d enlisted him in a drug trial and everyone was hopeful it would slow the dementia’s progression. But it was early on and that road was long.
“Griff knows I have a job to do and he’s respecting my position,” I said.
“Because he’s a good man.”
“He is.”
“A heck of a lot better than Skyler.” Pops spewed the name with a lip curl.
“I thought you liked Skyler.”
He arched a white eyebrow. “No. He was never good enough for you. Your parents thought the same.”
“What?” My mouth fell open. Mom and Dad had always been so nice to Skyler. They’d invited us over for regular dinners. They’d helped us move in together. “Why do you say that?”
“He’s an asshole.” Pops chuckled, his chest shaking. “We used to talk about him behind your back.”
“You did?” I smacked his shoulder. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“We all knew you’d figure it out eventually. Though I think your dad was losing patience. When you got engaged, he about lost it. The pissant didn’t even bother asking for his permission.”
I couldn’t believe I was hearing this. I stared unblinking at my grandpa’s profile as he watched the river flow like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on my lap.
My parents hadn’t liked Skyler. If anyone but Pops had told me, I wouldn’t believe it.
But in a way, it made me feel better. That they’d landed on the same conclusion I had, though much earlier.
“Wow.” I shook my head. “And Griffin? Is there anything you want to tell me now?”
Pops turned and gave me a sad smile. “They’d love Griffin.”
I pressed a hand to my heart as my eyes flooded. Dad would have dropped everything to help me move my stuff into Griffin’s house. Mom would have loved sitting on the porch to watch the sun set behind the mountains.
“I wish they could have met him,” I whispered.
“They did meet him.”
“What? When?”
“Oh, it had to have been years ago. They came to visit. You were busy working, so it was just them for a weekend. We all went down to Willie’s for a drink. Harrison and Griffin were both there.”
“Griff didn’t tell me.”
“The bar was packed and he’s not exactly unpopular. But I recall your mom made the comment that she wished you’d find a man like that. A sexy cowboy. Your dad teased her mercilessly for that. Said he was going to go home and buy a pair of boots to wear around the house naked.”
“Oh my God.” I buried my face in my hands, torn between laughing and crying. Because that was so them. And the fact that they’d met Griff, just knowing they’d seen his face . . . I didn’t know why it was important to me, but it was.
Tears won out over the laughter, and as a few leaked down my face, Pops put his hand on my shoulder.
“I miss them.”
“Me too,” he said.
“Thanks for telling me.”
“We don’t talk about them enough, sweetheart.”
“That’s my fault.” It had been too hard for too long.
“I’d like to. If you’re all right with it.”
I nodded. “I’d like that too, Pops.”
He squeezed my shoulder, then stood. “How about a snack? I’m hungry.”
“I can get it.”
“You stay.”
The whoosh of the river was my soundtrack as I replayed my conversation with Pops. For too long, I’d held Mom and Dad close. I’d hoarded their memories. But we needed to bring them into our lives.
Griffin might not have known them like Skyler, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t. Through my memories, he’d know them. Through my love for them, they’d be part of our future.
Pops returned with a plate overflowing with red grapes, whole-wheat crackers and baby carrots. All things I’d brought him earlier this week.
“Are you in a rush to head home?” he asked after the plate was empty.
“No. Why?”
“How about a game of backgammon?”
“That would be fun.” I hadn’t played in ages. Not since before Dad had died. Backgammon had been his favorite game to play with Pops. Then he’d taught me.
Pops and I played for hours, until the heat from the afternoon sun drove us inside to the dining room table, where we played one last game.
“That was fun.” He grinned as he put the board away.
“It sure was. But I’d better head home.”
“Whose home?”
“Griffin’s,” I corrected, wrapping my arms around his waist. “Thanks, Pops.”
“Love you, sweetheart.” He hugged me tighter, then let me go. “Have a good night.”
“Love you too. Bye.”
We’d played longer than I’d expected, and by the time I got outside, it was close to dinnertime.
I pulled my personal phone from my pocket—the station phone was in the other, and though carrying two phones was a huge pain in the ass, since Pops’s heart attack, I hadn’t gone anywhere without either, fully charged.
I was about to call Griffin and see if he wanted me to stop downtown and pick up something for dinner, but before I could unlock the screen, the clank of metal on metal carried from the house next door.
“Hey, cutie,” Frank called from the garage. He was wearing a grease-stained pair of jeans. A red rag was hanging out of a front pocket.
“Hey.” I stuffed my phone away and smiled, muffling a sigh when he waved me over.
His attitude toward Griffin at the hospital still grated on me, but this was Frank. This was my grandpa’s best friend and the guy who’d been there when I hadn’t been to drive Pops to the hospital.
“How are you?” I asked, stepping into the garage. The smell of metal and oil was so strong I scrunched up my nose.
“Oh, fine.” He tossed out a hand to the Jeep. “This vehicle might be the death of me. Especially if Rain keeps losing parts.”
I laughed. “How’d she lose parts?”
“Lord, if I had the answers to solve the mystery that is my beloved wife.” He laughed and kicked a tire with his boot.
“Frank—oh, Winnie!” Rain poked her head out the door that connected the house to the garage, and when she saw me, she rushed out, coming my way to pull me into a hug. She wore an apron tied tight and was holding a meat tenderizer.
“Hey, Rain.”
I’d seen her a few times since I’d moved to Quincy, each on my trips coming and going to visit Pops.
She was one of those lucky women who didn’t seem to age.
Her hair was the same light brown as I always remembered, her skin smooth except for a few fine lines around her eyes and mouth.
Her hug was as fierce as those I remembered from my childhood.
Mom had always joked that for a slender woman, Rain was as strong as an ox.
“Are you cooking?” I nodded to the tenderizer mallet.
“I am.” She shook it and laughed. “Chicken fried steak. Frank’s favorite. How are you, little bird?”
“Good.” I smiled at the same nickname she’d called me since I was a kid. “Frank was just telling me about a few missing parts for the Jeep. Did you go wild cleaning the garage?”
“Never.” She laughed. “This is his mess.”
“Then how’d you lose a part?” I asked.
“Driving,” Frank answered. “Somehow this summer, she lost a hubcap.”
A hubcap. The tire he’d kicked was missing the cap. My eyes darted to the front wheel. It was capped with the hubcap I’d seen in the back of Griffin’s truck weeks ago on a grocery store run. The one he’d told me Mateo had found on the road to Indigo Ridge.
“I saw a hubcap like this . . .” I locked my gaze with Rain’s. “I didn’t realize that you drove the Jeep.”
Her smile faltered. “Well, sure. It’s my only car.”
Why would she go on the road to Indigo Ridge? That was private property.
Something prickled at the back of my neck. An uneasy feeling. I didn’t need a mirror to see the color drain from my face.
Rain must have noticed it too. “Frank, close the door.”
It took me three seconds too many to register that sentence. It took me three seconds too many to look between my lifelong friends and realize what I was seeing. Because in those three seconds, Frank punched the garage door opener clipped to the Jeep’s driver-side visor.
And Rain lifted the mallet.
It took me three seconds too many to shed my personal bias and grasp that these people—neighbors, friends—were not as they seemed.
Three seconds too many.
Before the lights went out.