Chapter 4 #2
Noah sat at the far end of the island, fingers curling around a tumbler filled with more tequila than she should've poured, but under the circumstances, the man had a right to a good buzz.
Leaning against the counter next to her stood Jag. He wore jeans, boots—which she hadn't made him take off—a dark button-down shirt with his police chief badge still clipped to the pocket. And around his waist was his gun belt, weapon and all.
He held the card that came with the flowers between his fingers and stared at it, as if he were studying it and there would be a quiz later. He hadn't said a word since Noah had spilled his guts.
Ziggy shouldn't have been surprised. While both her brothers could be loud, neither was when it came to their work or when they were contemplating how to respond to news that wasn’t what they’d expected.
"Are you going to say anything?" she asked.
"He's calculating the fastest way to get me out of your house," Noah said. "Now that he knows I'm the son of a serial killer."
"I can't with you right now." Ziggy glared.
Noah held up his glass and shrugged. "That's what I'd be doing if I were him and you were my sister."
"Well, you're not me." Jag placed the card down on the counter as if it were a fine piece of jewelry. He glanced between Ziggy and Noah. "I'm not quite sure how to tell either of you this." He rubbed the back of his neck.
"How about you just spit it out," Noah said. "Because I don't know which is worse. You coming into this house with a gun and a badge, or your lack of reaction to what I just confessed."
Jag unclipped his badge, set it on the counter, then removed his gun belt and set it there as well.
"Oh shit," Ziggy whispered. "It's never good when you waffle between brother and cop."
"I'm not waffling." Jag turned, snagged a glass from the cupboard, and poured himself some tequila. "I just have a weird aversion to drinking while having either of those things on my body." He downed a good gulp. "Callie and I have suspected you were Angel Salazar for about two years."
Noah's hand dropped to the counter with more of a slap than a thud. His lips parted, and he made a weird noise that was somewhere between a high-pitched gasp and a groan.
"I'm sorry? What did you say?" Ziggy’s heart pushed painfully against her ribs with each beat. The noise of it thumping echoed in her ears like someone yelling into a cave.
"How? Why? And you didn't say anything?" The words tumbled out of Noah's mouth in a stutter.
Ziggy wasn't sure she'd ever heard him stammer.
"Callie started researching Matias Salazar about three years ago." Jag kept his voice level. He always did that when he knew the words were going to hit hard, and he wanted to make sure he softened the blow. He’d always been good at that. "The case fascinated her. It wasn't just about the killer."
"She likes to dive into the victims. Give them a voice." Ziggy had always loved that about Callie, and the last two books she'd published gave her a reputation for not idolizing or even sensationalizing a monster, but for giving humanity back to those the killer destroyed.
"That's one of the reasons." Jag nodded.
"But in this case, I bet it was the family angle," Noah said softly. "The double life. The wife. The son. How a killer managed to live a lie for so long. Be so ingrained in the community, and how on earth could his own family not know?”
"Callie wasn't overly interested in how Matias managed that, but she did want to hear Angel's story. To hear what was going on with the teenage boy that sat in that courtroom every day and never said a single word—to anyone.” Jag pulled out one of the stools and sat down. “The images. The video clips. She couldn’t stop looking at them. How composed you were as reporters shoved microphones in your face and shouted questions. Even your mother broke down.”
Noah let out a grunt that sounded like a cross between a sarcastic laugh and a stifled curse word.
Ziggy studied him for a moment as the kitchen went still. He raised his drink, stared into it, said nothing, and took a sip. Setting down the glass, he lifted his gaze. “I didn’t say anything then, I’m not going to comment on it now.”
“Didn’t expect you would,” Jag said. “It’s just outside of the fact that you’re much older now, that’s the look you had all those years ago.”
Noah shrugged but said nothing else. Ziggy couldn’t blame him.
"How come I didn't know Callie was researching this story?” Not that Ziggy expected to know everything about every one of her siblings and their spouses, but damn, her family was tight. So tight, they were always up in each other's business.
Jag tilted his head. "Come on. You know Callie doesn't give up the details on what she's working on with anyone, except me—not until her publisher gives her the green light.”
"The world wants my father's story. My story. I’m sure she would’ve gotten the go-ahead without having anything but interest.” Noah pushed his glass across the counter, leaned back, and folded his arms. "I'm shocked I've been able to keep it hidden for this long.
" He scratched the center of his chest like he did when he had heartburn.
Jag rolled his shoulders. “Callie’s well known in the true crime world, and other writers, podcasters—they've been coming to her asking if she's been secretly working on this story and if she’s willing to share anything.”
"What does she tell them?" Ziggy asked.
"That Matias won't talk to anyone, which is true because she tried to get an interview.” Jag glanced between her and Noah. “But without the son, who vanished when he was seventeen and is probably dead, it's not a story worth pursuing."
"Being dead has its advantages." Noah chuckled.
"That's not funny," Ziggy said.
"It kind of is." Her brother held up his glass.
Noah had the gumption to reach for his and clink it against Jag's.
"You both are freaking unbelievable. This could ruin Noah.
" She looked back at Jag. The anger had moved past the hot stage into the cold stage, which was the stage her mother always said was the one to watch out for in a Bowie woman.
Ziggy had to agree. And now she was slightly pissed at both her brother and Noah.
"No one wants to see that happen." Jag reached out and took Ziggy's hand. "Once the trail led us to Noah, we weren't going to burn his house down. That's not who we are, and you know that."
"How did you put it all together?” Noah asked.
The laughter from a few minutes ago was gone.
"If Callie found it, someone else can follow the same path, and while telling you to protect Ziggy from whatever fresh hell the card, the puck, and these flowers mean, I still don't necessarily want my secret out there for the world to judge.
" He took a breath and kept talking before Jag could open his mouth.
"I get the hypocrisy, but Ziggy will tell you we've abandoned stories like this one.
Not because of me. But because there are some headlines not worth destroying someone over. "
"I'm not judging." Jag lowered his chin.
"Callie and I lived through some difficult times, and she wrote about them for the world to dissect.
When she first started that book, part of it was to tell certain truths, and part of it was perhaps to hurt me.
But the end product was all about giving a voice to victims who couldn't speak—and one of them was her sister.
She wanted to find you not because she wanted to exploit you, as much as she wanted to give you the chance to tell your story, in your words, instead of letting people fill in the blanks in the most grotesque ways. "
Ziggy knew all too well what people said about Angel. How he probably knew and had chosen not to say anything. It seemed it didn't matter that he’d just been. a kid—many thought he was just as guilty as his father. Same as his mother.
While others did see him as a victim, they could never understand how he didn't see his dad for the monster he was.
Noah flattened his hands on the counter. "Are you trying to tell me you believe I made a mistake all these years ago?”
"I'm not saying that at all," Jag said in that calm voice that usually made Ziggy relaxed and feel safe, but right now, it grated on her last nerve.
"You asked how we came to believe you and Angel were most likely the same person, and the answer is both simple and complicated.
Callie has never wanted to expose anyone. "
Noah made a throaty growl. "Unlike me, is what you're trying to say.
"Don't put words in my mouth." Jag waved his finger. "You find different kinds of truths. You do expose people, but you do it as much as I do. You and I are the same in that way. We’re more likely to see the bad in people before we see the good. Neither Callie nor I have any beef with what you do or how you do it, because you don't ever reveal anything for ratings. You do it because someone did something wrong and shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it.”
"He's right about that." Ziggy gave Noah a weak smile.
"The thing with Callie is, once people get to know her—especially if they've read her books or her articles—they open up to her in ways they’d never open up to a journalist."
"Shit." Noah scraped a hand over his face. "She spoke to my aunt and uncle."
"They talked about a young boy who they loved very much. How they'd hoped he would have found his way after his mother died. But that just hadn't happened, and they hadn't seen him since he was seventeen."
"There are a few pieces missing," Noah said. "One of which is they knew if Angel were to vanish, and I became someone else after high school, they would also disappear from my life."
Ziggy caught Noah's gaze and felt the ache of knowing there were still things she didn't know, still gaps in the story she'd been carrying for five years, and it made her angrier than she wanted it to.
She turned back to Jag. "How did you find his family, whom he hasn’t seen or spoken to since he disappeared—which doesn't prove anything. "
"It didn't. Not right away." Jag reached over and picked up the card again, turning it in his fingers. "Callie saw pictures. Angel, as a kid with a crooked nose, a couple of scars, but different enough from the man sitting in your kitchen, most wouldn’t make the connection.” He glanced at Noah.
"But she saw something. Spent a few more months watching courtroom footage, interviewing anyone who'd sit with her.
And then she found his high school English teacher on the East Coast. Said Angel was one of the brightest kids he'd ever taught. Had this obsession with journalism, with getting to the truth of things. With uncovering stuff.” He set the card back down.
“This teacher said that one day Angel was doing everything right, keeping his head down, and the next he'd turned into a little asshole who got bad grades.
And a few months after graduation, he'd disappeared.
Something about getting hooked on drugs, and this teacher just had a really hard time believing that. "
Ziggy poked Jag in the chest, which she hadn't done since they were teenagers, and he'd told their parents she'd dented the car. "You used your contacts after that. Didn't you? You put him at risk, and you know that."
Jag didn't step back. "I didn't use any contacts.
I want you to hear me on that." His voice had that steady ring that meant the subject was closed.
"Callie made the connection and we sat on it.
And even then, even if we were wrong, even if Noah wasn't Angel, it was possible the kid didn't want to be found.
That he'd gone to great lengths to vanish. Callie decided to respect that."
"But you know how she got there," Noah said quietly as he reached for his drink. "Which means the trail exists. Which means someone else could follow it."
"You mean someone else already did." Jag pointed to the flowers. "I don't want to turn this into a circus. That's not going to help you or protect my sister. But we need to do something, so I want your permission to bring Troy and Reid in on this."
"I don't have a problem with that." Noah lifted his finger. "Though, I’m a little concerned about this new organization that Troy is opening an office for in the next few months."
"Don't be," Jag said. "Only a couple of the Aegis Network operatives have moved here, and they are all ex-military, cops, CIA, that kind of thing. Whatever they find will be locked up like Fort Knox. But I do want to keep one looking out for both you and my sister. Discreetly, of course."
"I won't say no to that." Noah pushed the stool back and stood.
"Seriously?" Ziggy just stood there and stared.
"I'm not messing around with your safety. If exposing my dirty secret is the price I have to pay for that, then I'll gladly pay it." Noah looked at Jag. "I'll walk you out."
Both men headed for the front door, leaving her there alone.
She looked at the flowers.
White and pale pink and sitting on her island in the quiet of her kitchen, and the only thought she could land on was that somewhere between the hockey puck and the forged card and her brother unclipping his badge and Noah offering up twenty-five years of carefully protected silence to keep her safe, tonight was supposed to have been about a kiss.
She wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry, so she poured herself a drink instead.