Chapter Twenty-Six
Katie
Lottie’s home envelops me in a warm hug the second I step through the door.
She’s uncharacteristically wearing leggings and a long T-shirt, but I know she’ll likely change into something fancier before the rest of the dinner club arrives.
The glow of the afternoon sun filters through the forest trees, casting warm shadows into her library room, my favorite room in the house.
“How are you feeling?” she asks.
What a monumental question. So much has happened in the last month alone that it’s hard to compartmentalize it all.
“I’m actually okay, I think. It’s hard to tell one minute from the next.”
She smiles, sipping her wine. “What was it like seeing Thomas Vale again?”
My heart beats steadily, and the growing chill I used to feel clinging to my nape doesn’t come when she mentions his name.
“Actually, not as bad as I thought it would be. I think I’d built him up in my head to be this awful monster when in reality he looks just as pathetic in orange as everyone else.”
“Traffic cone?”
“Exactly. Total traffic cone.” I pause for a minute, thinking about the appeal yesterday and how his lawyer tried to slut-shame me into believing I was a mad therapist. Had it not been for the last month and exploring those fantasies, I never would have felt strong enough to defend my search history to the jury.
I never would have been able to deal with the appeal itself had it not been for Jonesy.
He’s made me stronger in a way I couldn’t even imagine a month ago.
“The appeal is continuing next week, and I don’t have to go back unless I want to hear the verdict.
But I think I’m okay. I don’t think they’ll release him.
Harper Halliday did an unbelievable job in making my sex life look interesting but private and completely normal between two consenting adults.
” I try to hide the smile that tugs at my mouth whilst taking a sip of my drink.
She clocks it immediately, her face lighting up as she adjusts herself on the couch to settle in for a debrief.
“Speaking of . . . you’re really having all this freaky sex with Jonesy, and you didn’t tell me? I mean, finally, but still, I’m your best friend, and you didn’t want to give me a heads-up so I could finally burn that stupid cot I left in the cupboard room.”
“Wait . . . you knew that cot was too small for Jonesy.” A slow realization dawns on me that we’ve been played.
“Of course, I’ve been waiting for you to pull the trigger and get on with it for years. I was determined to pull off the one-bed trope for you.”
I launch a pillow at her, and with the skill of a senior college student, she manages to move her drink out of the way without spilling a drop.
She played the long game on this one, taking eight years for Jonesy and me to find our way to each other when he returned from overseas, and he’s been sleeping across the hall from me once a month.
“I cannot believe you’ve been pushing for this.”
“Katie, come on. If you had even shown any inkling that you were interested in another man in the last fifteen years, I would have bought Jonesy a proper bed to sleep on. But as it happens, you two have been obsessed with each other for years. I’m actually surprised it took this long.”
I love that she did this. She lacks boundaries. Last year, pushing Alfie to admit his true feelings for Mia when he asked her to help him crash her date, and now this.
I shrug. “I don’t think we were ready before. It’s like he snuck into my bed at exactly the right time. Exactly when I would need him. It’s kind of like the universe pushed him to me.”
“Yeah . . . the universe.” Her cheeks pinken as she looks anywhere except my face.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing, I swear.”
She hides her face with her wineglass, taking a larger gulp than necessary.
“Charlotte Buckingham. What did you do?” I screech, my heart racing in my chest.
“Okay, but you have to promise you won’t tell Jonesy.”
“I can’t promise that.” Not when the man turns me into putty every time he takes his shirt off. I bite my lip just thinking about it. Maybe I’ll make him work for it tonight.
“God, if the you from a month ago could see you now, she’d slap you.” Lottie laughs, deflecting.
“Ha. I’d literally hate myself, but I am concerningly happy right now. He even helped me finish my living room so I have a place to hang out after work, and honestly, Lottie, it’s unbelievable. I really think I love him.”
I launch myself back into the couch cushions, letting my head hang off the couch.
“Oh God, he keeps dickmatizing me. What did you do?”
“Okay, well, don’t be mad, but I may have swapped out the old camp cot for a child-sized one. I knew it would get him into your room and, therefore, into your bed. Please don’t hate me!”
I watch her lips pull back into a grimace, as if she’s waiting for the next onslaught of pillows, but I find myself happy.
Lottie freaking Buckingham is such a meddler. Whether she wants to admit it or not, the women in her family rubbed off on her a little, despite the fact that she turned her back on the family tradition of becoming a “lady of the house” or whatever it is her foremothers did.
“You owe me,” I warn, pointing a finger at her.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll help you plan the wedding of the century and the best bachelorette party that’s ever been.”
“I think it’s a little soon for that,” I scoff.
She shrugs as if she knows something I don’t, but changes tack.
“So how is the current investigation now that creepy Thomas is being dealt with?”
“It’s a tough one. I’m glad Jonesy has been here to help me. He’s been a real support. But there’s something we’re both missing, and I can’t put my finger on what it is.”
“You don’t think the Maddox guy from the news did it?”
I think about the answer on the tip of my tongue. My gut feeling is screaming at me, but it doesn’t explain why. “No, I don’t.”
I explain about the evidence going missing, the character witnesses we spoke to, and how even in the interviews, Connor Maddox had looked so frightened.
It was as if he reverted to being fifteen, lashing out when he was questioned, devastated that his girlfriend might leave him.
Lottie nods thoughtfully along, her psychologist brain unraveling all the threads of this case, just as I’ve tried to.
“And Jonesy’s boss is a bit odd. He keeps trying to bring the case under military control, and he’s threatened to move Jonesy to the East Coast.”
“You’re joking?”
Shaking my head, I say, “I wish I were. I think a month ago I would have been so happy, and now I feel like he’s being snatched away from me just as I realized how much I need him.”
Lottie shames me with a grin so large that they could have seen it from Vancouver.
“Not talking about that.” I point at her again. “So let’s continue with the case. Do you have any thoughts?”
“Colonel Rogers is the one who’s threatening to move Jonesy to the other side of the country?”
“Yeah, you know him?”
“My dad golfs with him.” Her lips flatten.
I forget how famous Lottie’s family is. I mean, if America had a royal family, hers would probably be it.
But she’s so down to earth. Her dad just happens to play golf with the most influential military guy on the West Coast. Last year, I’m sure the chief mentioned him donating some money to the station after the Thomas Vale case wrapped up.
Told us all to have a good time on his dime.
He’s a generous guy, adored by many, given his philanthropic pursuits over the years, but I know he and Lottie have somewhat of a strained relationship.
She isn’t what he expected, and she expects more out of life than having everything mapped out for her.
She purses her lips together, staring off at one of the bookshelves.
“Do you know what I think is odd?” she asks.
“What’s that?” I lean back again, grateful to be feeling myself again after the last year.
“Well, ask yourself. Why do you bury bodies in the backyard?”
I laugh. “Well, I’ve never had to think about this, but I suppose you don’t have any means to dump the body somewhere else. I’m not sure if Connor Maddox has a car or not.”
“I just mean, if you’re going to risk murdering people and burying them on your property, the yard is pretty risky, isn’t it?” she hums thoughtfully. “Did they search the house?”
“Of course.”
“With the sniffer dogs?”
“I . . . I’m not sure if the dogs went into the house. The anonymous tip was for the backyard.”
She nods, her lips pursing together. “Okay, so I’m gonna ask again, why do you bury bodies in the backyard?”
My brow furrows as I try to work through what Lottie’s question means. The answer hits me like a sledgehammer. “Oh my God. You bury bodies in the backyard because the house is full.”
My heart stumbles, picking up again after a few seconds.
You bury bodies in the backyard because the house is full.
The. House. Is. Full.
Holy cheese nuts.
“Could they have missed anything in the house?” Lottie asks, her eyes flicking between mine.
“I mean . . . I don’t think their focus was on the house, but how could they have missed it? Anthony told me they used sniffer dogs on the first day, and they were restless but focused on the yard. I don’t know if they took the dogs into the house or not.”
My mind is racing a mile a minute. This could break the case.
This could be the missing thing that gets Connor Maddox out of prison.
Or keep him there for good. Either way, I need to go to the house right now to scope it out.
Given that the initial confession was about the backyard, I don’t think they would have had cause to search the property any deeper than surface level.
I need to get out of here so my heart rate can calm down.
“I need to go. I’ll be back for dinner club.” I rise from the couch, itching to get moving.
“Do you want to call Jonesy first?”