Chapter 13
Camille
BEFORE THE ALIBI
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Ben asks me for the third time tonight.
I nod and smile and try to relax even though I’ve been on edge since my conversation with Aubrey Price a few days ago at that bar. I’ve half expected her to show up at our house, demanding to speak with Ben, but so far she hasn’t reached out to him…that I know of.
It feels like she’s a ticking time bomb ready to explode.
That’s my own fault, though. The easiest assumption was that Ben was having an affair. Once I saw that napkin, I never considered another option. It was my mistake going into that bar, thinking I understood what was going on.
Ben slides his arm around my waist, pulling me in close as we make our way through the crowded room.
My lemon chiffon gown blends in with all the other shades of yellow the women are wearing to this fundraising gala for the Tarver Braddock Foundation.
Of all the charity events Ben drags me to, this is one I actually look forward to supporting.
Their main goal is to spread happiness to strangers with random acts of kindness in memory of the young man the foundation is named after, who passed away in an accidental fire several years ago.
In the videos they post on social media, the pure joy when they surprise kids with scholarships or pay for groceries for unsuspecting shoppers right before a holiday is contagious.
“Camille! Ben!”
We both turn when we hear our names. It’s our friends Phoebe and Wesley Heights. Phoebe hugs me when she gets close while Ben and Wesley shake hands.
“You look gorgeous!” Phoebe says as she pulls away from me.
“So do you! I love this dress!”
Phoebe hooks her arm through mine, leaning close. “Save me from my table. It’s all of Wesley’s work friends and two of the wives apparently hate each other. It’s so awkward!”
“Ours may not be much better! I told Riley to sit with us, promising I’d introduce her to Hank. You know how much he loves me setting him up!”
She laughs because Hank has made it clear he doesn’t like it at all.
I like Phoebe. I haven’t known her long, but every time we’re together we have a good time.
Over the years, I’ve drifted away from my high school and college friends, and now my inner circle are women I met because their husbands are friends with Ben.
Part of that is because Ben is way more social than I am and always making plans for us.
But the other part is that Ben didn’t really love my old friends and they weren’t exactly crazy about him, so it just seemed easier not to force them to be around one another.
We talk for a few more minutes before Wesley drags her off to introduce her to another couple.
Ben is back at my side, steering me toward our table, but then pauses in the middle of the room.
“We need to speak to your family, so let’s go ahead and get it over with.
” He pulls me in a new direction and we head toward where my parents are sitting with my brother, Silas, and sister-in-law, Margaret.
Ben’s mask slips perfectly into place as we approach their table.
My feelings are a bit harder to hide. Ben will spend most of the night trying to impress my dad, while Dad throws well-aimed barbs in my direction, dismissing my social media account as a waste of time and demanding we finally make them grandparents.
I take the open seat next to Margaret, letting Ben have the one closest to my parents.
“Oh, I love that color on you. Yellow can be so hard to pull off. Did you see the monstrosity Mrs. Weston’s wearing? She looks like an ear of corn.”
“I haven’t run across her yet,” I say, laughing at her description.
Margaret is blond and thin and naturally tan.
The Southern Belle trifecta. And her forehead hasn’t moved since high school.
She’s constantly getting work done to improve upon her natural beauty, even though most people would give their big toe to look half as good as she does without all the improvements.
She takes another sip of her wine as she gives me a rundown on what everyone else is wearing.
By the way she’s giggling, I know she’s on at least her third glass.
Margaret likes to have a good time, and it’s likely she’ll be wobbling out of here tonight.
Silas leans forward, nodding to where Ben and Dad are deep in conversation on the other side of me.
“Warning, Dad’s going to push for you to come home for a church thing.
It’s all he talked about on the drive over.
” Silas is younger than me but with his deeply tanned skin from spending so much time working on the farm, he could easily be confused as my older brother.
“Okay, thanks for the heads-up.”
It’s only a few minutes later that Dad looks at me past Ben. “Camille, your mother wants to know if you’re coming to the fall festival at church that’s coming up in a few weeks.”
My mother is sitting next to him, talking to an older woman I recognize from our hometown. She sent me one text about this a couple of weeks ago and nothing else since then. Dad only wants me there because he thinks it reflects poorly on him when I’m not present.
And honestly, it should, since he’s the main reason I won’t be there.
“I’ll talk to her about it in a bit.”
He throws me a look but doesn’t say anything else. Thankfully, Ben distracts him by asking about the upcoming election.
I turn back to Margaret and Silas. Their heads are bent while they talk quietly, but the body language tells me they’re arguing about something, which is not unusual.
Silas would never say it but I think he’s as unhappy in his marriage as I am in mine.
While I’ve managed to keep a healthy distance from my parents, Silas and I are still close.
We may not see each other very often, but he calls and checks in on me regularly and we grab lunch whenever he’s in Baton Rouge.
I’m worried about him, though. I was hoping he’d get out of Corbeau and not get sucked into working with Dad, but he seems to get deeper and deeper into the family business every year.
It’s no secret Dad is shady as hell and gets away with things he shouldn’t. The cops in Corbeau are on the payroll and the mayor is in his pocket. And Silas is following in his footsteps.
“Camille! It’s so good to see you!”
Several friends of my mom’s stop at the table and exchange pleasantries, all of them telling me how long it’s been since they’ve seen me and asking when I’m coming to visit.
Silas escapes by going to speak with a judge who’s running for one of the open state legislature seats. I’m sure my family is backing his campaign since our motto is “Can’t have too many friends in power!”
As soon as the ladies move on to another table, Dad stands up. “Walk with me to get a drink.”
I glance at Ben. He and Margaret are talking to one of Margaret’s friends, whom I recognize as a bridesmaid at her wedding. “Okay, sure.”
The line is long even though there are several bartenders working behind the counter. I’m already regretting this.
“Your mother is hurt you don’t come visit more often.”
Ugh. There it is—the guilt trip. I know better than to get cornered by him like this, especially after Silas’s warning. “I see Mom when she comes to Baton Rouge to get her hair done or meet with the Garden Club.”
“It’s not the same as coming home for a visit. I don’t know the last time you’ve stayed at the house. And you know she’s ready for grandkids.”
Nope. Not doing this with him. “Then maybe she needs to talk to Margaret. She’d see Silas’s kids way more often than she would mine since they’re practically next door.”
Before he can say anything else, I decide to turn this on him and maybe even get a few answers of my own. “Hey, remember that guy from Corbeau who got arrested for that hit-and-run and went to prison?”
He leans a little closer. “Who?”
The music is loud and he’s getting hard of hearing, so I step a little closer and repeat my question.
Dad gives me a confused look. “What guy?”
It’s hard to resist rolling my eyes. Even though it happened a decade ago, he was the only person I’ve ever heard of from our town who ended up in prison. It’s all anyone talked about for months after it happened. “That guy who killed that couple in that hit-and-run. Paul Granger.”
His forehead creases as he considers my question. “Paul Granger. Why on earth are you asking about him?”
Obviously, I’m not about to get into the real reason. “I had forgotten all about it until someone brought his name up.”
“Why would anyone be talking about that lowlife?” He says this loud enough that the people in front of us turn around and stare at Dad.
I shrug a shoulder. “Someone said he’s trying to get his case reopened and I was just curious. I was out of the country when it happened so I didn’t keep up with it in real time like everyone in town did.”
I’m exaggerating a bit. It didn’t take much digging to find a handful of posts Paul’s mom made on social media over the last several months, saying he had been framed that summer a decade ago and that “the truth that had been buried would be brought to light.” That Paul would soon be free.
The way she said it, with such certainty, made his release feel imminent.
“I would think you’d have something more productive to do than gossip. Aren’t you still taking pictures of cheeseburgers?”
And there’s the dig.
“Randall!” The man behind Dad taps him on the shoulder so we turn around.
“Gus! Marie!” Dad says in greeting.
Dad introduces me to the couple even though I’ve known them for years. And just like that, all conversation about Paul is over.
The moment Aubrey said Paul Granger’s name, a chill raced down my spine, and I’ve been searching for every piece of information I can get my hands on.
Aubrey was right when she said I recognized Paul Granger’s name.