Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
Marlowe gave her name at the front desk of the police station, and within ten minutes, Ariel appeared.
“Marlowe, is something wrong?” Ariel asked. “Or did you just want to talk?”
“No, sorry. Nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to talk, if that’s okay.” Marlowe felt silly now, facing Ariel in the drab lobby, pretending she drove all the way here just to chat.
But Ariel didn’t miss a beat. “Should we go grab coffee? There’s a café round the corner, and I’m not ready to take you into a full-on interrogation room.” Ariel smiled, her teeth as small and white as pearls. “Yet.”
Marlowe didn’t laugh at the joke, but she did let Ariel lead her a few blocks away.
They ordered drips and found a corner table.
Around them, a few people worked on laptops, puddles forming beneath their chairs as slush melted from their boots.
The café was comfortable and quiet, with just enough background noise to keep their conversation private.
“I wanted to ask about Nora’s case,” Marlowe said at last.
Ariel raised her brows. “You know I can’t tell you everything.”
“I read the file you gave me. If Pete had that journal, he might have known about the tricks we played as kids. He might have been upset.”
Ariel looked momentarily surprised by Marlowe’s blunt approach. Marlowe was surprised too.
“And are you upset?” Ariel asked.
“Yes, I am.” Marlowe met her gaze. “I had no idea he was so distressed.”
She couldn’t bring herself to say Dave’s name. It was the latest in a long line of insults.
“You’ve been in the dark about a lot of things,” Ariel said. “The details of the sale, the Gallagher relatives. Even Harmon’s threats seemed to catch you off guard.”
If Ariel meant to wound her pride, it was a wasted effort. Marlowe had lost any sense of pride the moment she read Dave’s journal.
“None of it was on purpose,” Marlowe said. “But Pete might have thought it was. Maybe he wanted revenge. Damen Miller said something about Nora being caught in a feud between families. He thinks we’re hiding something, but we’re not.” She hesitated. “And never have been.”
“When did you speak to Damen Miller?” Ariel asked, puzzled.
Marlowe shook her head, not realizing she hadn’t shared details of their conversation with anyone yet. She felt a sudden chill after the admission.
“A couple days ago,” she said, waving off the question and trying to remain calm.
In truth, she wanted to stop Ariel’s investigation from taking Damen’s theories too seriously.
His logic was tangled in grief. No matter how aggressive Harmon’s threats had been, she couldn’t picture any of the Fishers answering with violence.
There were plenty of legal ways to deal with someone like Harmon, things her family was well versed in.
“Well, you shouldn’t be talking to him,” Ariel said. “That’s not going to end well.”
“Nora spent every second she could with my family,” Marlowe blurted out.
“Every weekend, she was with us from Friday to Sunday night. Every summer, she basically moved in. I never thought that was strange when I was a kid. But it is, isn’t it?
I always thought the Millers were nice. So why was she always trying to get away from them? ”
Marlowe pressed her lips together. She sounded desperate, grasping at something she had no proof of. But hadn’t she always been a part of this investigation? If anyone’s theory deserved to be heard, it was hers.
Ariel folded her small hands together on the table. “Are you trying to turn this back on Damen?”
“No, I’m not accusing anyone,” Marlowe said. “You gave me those journals, and I’m telling you what I think.”
Ariel tilted her head slightly, considering. Then she took a long sip of her coffee and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
“I had a best friend too, when I was fifteen,” Ariel said suddenly. “Carol Smith. We did everything together.”
Marlowe frowned, suspicious of Ariel’s motives in sharing this information. “And what happened to her?”
“We drifted apart. No big fight, just different colleges, different lives. We used to catch up now and then, but eventually, even that faded.” Her face was inscrutable. “Still, I remember what it was like. At one point in time, that girl and what we had was my whole life.”
Marlowe turned her coffee cup in her hands. “Is that supposed to comfort me? That Nora was taken before we drifted apart?”
Ariel studied her for a beat. “Look, Marlowe, it’s not like we think you killed your best friend. But I do think you feel guilty. Maybe not for something you did, but something you didn’t do. Something you didn’t say.”
Marlowe’s fingers tightened around the cup. She wasn’t a suspect. They had to stop treating her like one. It was a waste of time. “I told you, I’ll tell you anything. I want to know—”
“I know how siblings can be.” Ariel cut her off gently. “Through thick and thin, they protect each other.”
“Nora protected me.” Marlowe leaned forward, her voice low. “If you’re so focused on siblings, you should know that Nora was like my sister. To my brothers as well. She was one of us.”
Ariel held her gaze for a long moment before nodding. “I know.”
Marlowe exhaled and leaned back. She didn’t want to lose her temper or get emotional, not with Ariel.
“Dave Gallagher was suffering in silence from depression. A lot of men do,” Ariel said, crossing her arms. Then she added, almost offhandedly, “I hate it up here, you know. I grew up in Brooklyn. I’m not used to all these empty roadsides and vanishing towns.”
“If you hate it, why are you here?”
“My mom moved upstate for a little house in the country. She spent her life savings on it. Then got sick,” Ariel said. “So. Here I am.”
“I’m sorry about your mother.”
“People hold you back; it’s an old story.” Ariel shrugged. “Maybe you were lucky to lose someone early.”
Marlowe recoiled. The words were cruel. But then she caught the glint in Ariel’s eyes. It was a test. She was hoping to elicit something from Marlowe.
“Maybe you’ll get lucky soon too,” Marlowe said flatly.
Ariel cracked a smile, shaking her head.
“Maybe. I wouldn’t mind leaving. This whole area is just a string of ghost towns.
” She glanced around the café. “I gave you those journal pages because if you want to get to the bottom of this, you need to think back and realize you’re not a kid anymore,” Ariel said.
“What was really going on with Nora that year?”
Marlowe had a thousand answers. They ran free all summer on the Gallagher land. Nora was dating Sean, passing along all the lessons learned in a first relationship. Everyone kept saying they were growing up fast, but it felt like nothing was changing at all.
Ariel didn’t push. She just scraped back her chair and stood up. “Come with me. I’m going to give you something.”
At the station, Marlowe sat in a plastic chair for nearly half an hour, debating whether to ask more about Pete Gallagher.
But pulling out her messy family tree and floating her half-baked theory—that Pete had lurked around the land as in some ghost story—felt ridiculous. She needed something more concrete.
Finally, Ariel returned to the waiting area, another big yellow envelope in her hand. This one was so full it couldn’t be clasped.
“These are Brierley’s old notes. More photocopies.” She handed them over, and Marlowe almost dropped the envelope in shock. “It’s not every interview, just his notes on what he was thinking.”
“This is confidential,” Marlowe said. “I tried to get these before, but the department wouldn’t release them.”
“I know,” Ariel said. “But I want you to read them. Then tell me what you think.”
Marlowe could only stare in astonishment.
“You know what the sergeant says about me?” Ariel lifted one dark brow. “He says I’m an ‘agent of chaos.’ That I chase leads on instinct, not reason.”
“I can see that,” Marlowe said dryly.
“It works for me.” Ariel shoved her hands into her pockets and leaned forward. “We’re close to wrapping up Harmon’s case. And Nora—whatever Harmon might have known—my gut tells me we’re close to that as well.”
A trickle of cold dread ran down Marlowe’s spine.
“Brierley. He wasn’t dumb,” Ariel said as she walked Marlowe to the doors. “He made some sharp observations.”
“His observations didn’t help,” Marlowe said.
“Maybe he was just missing a piece,” Ariel said.