“Sure. Let’s do it.”
We got to Cole’s house and he pulled into the back of the drive. “What time does your mom get home?” I asked him.
“On Saturdays she usually gets home around seven thirty. She likes to hang out with some of the other nurses at a pub near the clinic and unwind. I’ll end up making her dinner before I get to my poker game.”
I glanced at him as we walked to the back door together. “Poker game?”
He made a face like he was sorry he’d let that out of the bag. “Yeah, just me and a couple of friends. You know, guy stuff.”
“Cool,” I said. He kept surprising me, and I liked the image of him sitting around with his buddies, playing poker. There was just something sexy about guys being guys.
Cole seemed to think I was put off by the confession, though. “Lily, I’d invite you over but we’re not all that civilized on poker night.”
I put a hand on his arm. “Cole,” I said. “It’s cool. Have fun at your poker game. Really.”
His expression relaxed. “But I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” he asked, pausing at the door.
“Definitely,” I said coyly.
Cole leaned toward me, and our gazes locked. He was going to kiss me again, and I nearly moaned with anticipation. The last kiss we’d shared had been surreal. I was eager to feel his lips against mine again.
But an inch from me, Cole paused. His gaze traveled up and behind me, and then he pulled back and said, “What the hell?!”
I turned to look back. The window into what appeared to be the laundry room was broken and there were little bits of glass on the ground. The latch had been pushed up enough for someone to crawl through.
Suddenly, I felt Cole’s arm snake around my middle. “Get behind me,” he said.
I went from alarmed to petrified in under two seconds. “You’re not going in there, are you?” I whispered.
“Yeah, so stay here,” he said.
I grabbed his shirt. “Don’t be an idiot! We should call the police! What if they’re still in there? What if there’s two of them?”
“Stay here,” he said again, and gently eased out of my grasp to try the handle on the door. It opened easily, and I remembered that he’d locked it when we’d left the house earlier.
“Cole!” I whispered. “Don’t!”
But he slipped through the entry on his own. Meanwhile, I stood there shivering in fear, and straining my ears to hear anything that might indicate he’d come upon the intruder. Or intruders. Nothing.
I dug out my cell and started to dial 911, but I quickly realized I didn’t know Cole’s address. Moving away from the door, I was about to head down the drive to look for a house number when I heard movement behind me.
I screamed and jumped around to face the criminal, but it was just Cole on the back step, looking pale and completely rattled.
“Are they in there?” I asked him, holding my phone close in case I needed to dial quickly.
He shook his head. “No.”
And then I thought of his sweet dog. “Ohmigod! Bailey!”
Cole came off the step and over to me. “She’s fine,” he said. “She was in her crate.”
I blinked. “She was in her crate?”
“Yeah,” he said. “And we didn’t do that. So, somehow somebody got her into her crate and locked her up.”
“Okay, so what’d they take?”
“The file,” he said.
“The what?”
“The murder file, Lily. It’s gone. That’s the only thing missing.”
“But…but…” I tried to make sense of that. “What the hell would a robber want with an old murder file?”
“I don’t think a robber would want it,” he said. “But the murderer would.”
The air left my lungs so quickly that my knees buckled. Cole got an arm around me just in time or I would’ve scraped them on the pavement.
“You okay?” he said, holding on to me until I was steady enough to stand on my own.
“Yeah,” I lied. “We talked to the murderer today?” I said weakly.
Cole looked back toward the house. “Maybe.”
I put a hand over my mouth. “Oh my God, Cole.”
He nodded. The bravado from a few moments before was gone.
“Okay…okay…” I said, trying to think this thing through. “What if there’s a logical explanation? What if your mom took it and the broken window is just a coincidence or something?”
“She’s been at work all day,” he reminded me. “And if she came home and found that on the kitchen table, Lily, she’d be calling me two seconds later to tell me to get my butt home. She never would’ve waited till later to say something to me. The window and the dog can’t be a coincidence.”
I was shaking all over now, and Cole led me to a set of lawn chairs. “We have to call the police,” I said.
Cole looked back toward the house. “And tell them what? That I had a murder file that’d been illegally obtained by one of their own guys, and it got stolen?”
“Well, at least you can report the break-in!” I insisted. “Cole, if he left any prints behind, the police might be able to catch him and then we can tell them about the file. We just won’t tell them where it came from.”
Cole considered that for a minute, then nodded. “Okay. But let me take you home first.”
I bit my lip. It felt like he was dismissing me. “I can stay,” I told him.
But Cole reached for my hand and said, “I think I’d feel better if you were locked safely behind that big gate on your grandmother’s estate.”
What neither of us said out loud was Unless she is the murderer.
“What about you?” I asked him. “Cole, if the murderer really did come here and steal the file, then you and your mom are in more danger than I am.”
Cole rubbed his temples. I could tell he was trying to keep it together even though the break-in had unnerved him.
“The guys are gonna be here at eight,” he said. “Which means we’ll be safe for the night at least. Tomorrow Mom’s headed to Newport News to stay with her boyfriend. He lives there.”
“Maybe you should go with her,” I said. “Or call that guy you know from the FBI and tell him everything that we’ve found out so far, and that your house was broken into. Maybe he can do something.”
Cole smiled. “I’m not gonna crash my mom’s night off with her boyfriend,” he said. “And Special Agent Presco isn’t going to do anything other than tell me there’s not much he can do. We need more, Lily.”
I looked to the window. “But this just got really serious, Cole. Dangerous even.”
“Only if we go back and try to interview the same people we did today,” he reasoned. “It’s gotta be someone we already talked to.”
“Unless Bishop figured out who we were,” I said.
Cole tapped his thigh with his keys and looked toward his black vintage Mustang. “He could’ve followed us back to the car and run my plates somehow.”
“But we didn’t even talk to him,” I said. “Why would he get suspicious?”
“We talked to Grady Weaver and Sara Radcliff. But no way did she have time to get over here and break in before us.”
“She could’ve called someone,” I said, looking around the yard. Dusk was already starting to settle, and the wind had picked up a little. Swaying trees were throwing long, creepy shadows, and I gave in to an involuntary shudder.
Cole swept a hand through his hair. “None of this makes any sense,” he said. “The more people we talk to, the more people we find out could’ve been the killer.”
I sat down again and held on to Cole’s hand, as much to lend him support as to get some support in return.
“Maybe you’re right,” I said. “Maybe we do need a little more. Maybe Britta will be able to tell us why Sara was acting so weird, or why Grady Weaver was so guarded, or why my grandmother gave a fired schoolteacher a million-dollar lake house.”
“Okay,” Col
e said. “Let’s make a deal that we talk to Britta and whatever she tells us we take to Special Agent Presco.”
“I think that’s a good plan,” I said. “But, Cole, I’m gonna talk to my mom about all this.”
He looked like he wanted to protest, but then stopped himself.
“Yeah,” he said. “That might be a good idea. And if she doesn’t let you come with me tomorrow, don’t sweat it. I’ll talk to Britta alone.”
“Oh, you’re not going alone,” I told him firmly. “Even if I have to sneak out of the house, I’m coming with you.”
He softened and swung my hand back and forth. “You make an awesome sidekick, you know that, Lily Bennett?”
That made me smile, too. “I’ve got mad skills, baby,” I mimicked. “Mad skills.”
“DON’T BE MAD,” SPENCE SAID as he sat on the swing on our back porch.
It was late. I was tired from studying for finals all day, and worrying about what Sara had said all weekend. Spence had been conveniently out of touch most of the day until after dinner when he’d finally returned my call.
“You need to come over here so we can talk,” I’d said evenly the minute I’d heard his voice. By that time, I was seriously angry.
Now here he was, and he seemed to think I was ticked off because we hadn’t hung out together over the weekend.
“Hey,” he said, reaching for me. “Ambi, come here. Sit with me, okay?”
I was standing at the railing, arms crossed, and caught between feeling heartbroken and so angry I could scream. I avoided his touch and continued to glare hard at him.
“Is it true?” I finally managed to say, my voice quavering.
He frowned at me. “Is what true?”
There was an edge to his voice. The same edge that’d been present in so many of our conversations the past few of weeks. I thought it was time to put everything on the table. “Are you breaking up with me?”
He sat there for a long moment and just stared. “No,” he said at last. “But you should probably break up with me.”
I stared at him, dumbstruck. “What the hell does that mean, Spence?”
He hung his head and, to my utter shock, his shoulders started to shake. He was crying. All of my pent-up anger evaporated, and I went to him to wrap my arms around him.
“Spence,” I whispered. “Spence! What’s the matter? What’s wrong?”
He grabbed me and pulled me to him, crushing me against his chest like he was holding on for dear life. “I’m so sorry,” he cried. “Ambi, I’m so sorry!”
I stroked his hair and held on to him for a long, long time until he calmed down. Finally, he loosened his hold on me and sat back on the seat to gather up my hands, but he wouldn’t look at me.
“Tell me,” I said gently. “Spence, please tell me what’s going on?”
“I didn’t get the scholarship,” he said.
His words were slow to sink in. “Okay,” I said. “What about the financial aid package?”
“The deadline for that was last week, Amber. Mom told me she sent it in, but when I called, they said they never got it. I went through the house and found it. She never filled it out. When I confronted her about it, she broke down. She said she couldn’t make it without my help. I can’t go,” he said, his voice choked with emotion. “She needs me. Stacey needs me. I want to go with you so bad, but I can’t.”
He started crying again and buried his head in his hands, then leaned himself forward and just cried in my lap. I hugged him while my mind whirred.
“Okay,” I said at last. “Spence, I understand. We just have to figure out what to do now. That’s all. Either way, we’ll figure it out and it’ll be okay. I promise.”
But it wasn’t going to be okay. I could feel my dreams slipping away. Dreams of a life together with Spence in California. Me, as a psychiatrist, and Spence working his way up the corporate ladder. I’d imagined us living a little farther south in San Diego. We’d find a cute bungalow together. We’d raise our children there. I wanted three: two boys and a girl. Spence would make an amazing father. We’d be happy.
I realized then that I’d held that dream for so long I’d made it my reality. What I’d forgotten was Spence and the crushing weight of responsibility that he carried.
Of course he couldn’t leave his mom and his sister. I wondered if he ever would have, even with the money for school. Would he have left them?
“Hey,” I said, lifting him up to face me. “Please don’t cry. We’ll figure it out, honey. We will.”
“How am I gonna let you go?” he asked me. “You’re the only good thing in my life, Amber. The only good thing.”
“Spence,” I said, stroking the side of his cheek. In that moment I loved him more than anything or anyone in the world. A future in California was nothing without Spence. He was my future. “If you have to stay here, then I’ll stay with you.”
His breath caught. “What?”
I kissed away the tears on his cheek. “I can go to UVA, Spence. They have a good program, too.”
He shook his head. “Amber, going to California is your dream.”
I nodded. “It’s not a real dream without you in it, Spence.” He stared at me in shock or relief or gratitude, I couldn’t tell which. Maybe all three. “We’ll stay here together and figure it all out. Momma’s gonna love that I’ll be staying home.”
At last he shook his head. “I can’t let you,” he said. “I can’t let you give up your dreams just because I can’t go with you.”
I placed my hands on the sides of his head and forced him to look me in the eyes.
“I’m staying,” I said firmly, and I almost said it without giving away the heartbreak in my voice. I could give up moving to California, but not without a few tears of my own.
“Amber—” he began.
“It’s settled, Spence,” I said, shaking my head to clear away the tears blurring my vision. “I’m staying. I’ll get in touch with UVA tomorrow. They’ve already accepted me; I just have to let them know that I’ve changed my mind and I’m going to attend classes there in the fall.”
“But—”
“No buts,” I said, cutting him off. “It’s you and me. Together. Forever.”
IT SEEMED TO TAKE ME FOREVER to get ready the next day. I’d changed six times before finally deciding on an outfit and what to do with my hair on the muggy end-of-summer morning.
At least I’d slept a little better the night before. I’d had the usual nightmare, but it’d only been the portion of discovering Ben in the field. When I’d woken up, I’d even been a little less devastated. Maybe I was becoming desensitized to it. But I knew that Amber was still very much with me. It was almost as though I could feel her hovering close by.
Mom was still asleep when I snuck out to meet Cole by the front gate.
“How’d it go this morning with your mom?” he asked me right after I’d gotten into his car.
I sighed. “It didn’t.”
“You guys got in a fight?”
I shook my head. “I was gonna talk to her, but when she got home she was asleep on her feet. I’ve never seen her so tired, so I didn’t want to get into a long discussion with her. I’ll tell her this afternoon when we’re done talking to Britta.”
“We can wait,” Cole said. “I mean, if you want me to go back inside with you and help you explain, I will.”
I put my hand over his, which was resting on the gearshift. I liked the easiness of our relationship, as though he were someone I’d known far longer than a week.
“She’s still asleep, Cole. I left her a note, and she probably won’t get up until after noon. We’ll be back by then.”
“Okay,” he said, then added, “Let’s do this.” And we pulled away from the estate.
“How’d it go at your house last night?” I asked. “Did you tell your mom about the break-in?”
Cole blanched. “No.”
“Did the police come and take a report?” I pressed. Something about
the way he seemed to be working hard to avoid my gaze bothered me.
“They did,” he said. When I eyed him skeptically, he crossed his heart with his fingers. “I swear, Lily, they did.”
“And your mom didn’t see the police?”
“She got home after they were already done. I told her that I’d broken the window playing fetch with Bailey.”
“Why’d you lie?”
“Because the cop who responded to the call said they weren’t gonna waste their time dusting for fingerprints if nothing was stolen. He said it was probably just some kids in the neighborhood. He told me that there’ve been a few cases where back windows had been pried open and small stuff—a couple of iPads, some headphones, and about a hundred bucks—had been taken. In one case, a neighbor saw the kids coming out through the window, but they haven’t been able to identify any of them yet. Anyway, he thinks it’s the same group of kids that hit my house.”
My jaw dropped. “You don’t think it was the killer,” I said. “You think it was a kid.”
“That window wasn’t opened very wide,” he reasoned. “That’s what the cop pointed out to me. That the window into the laundry room wasn’t opened far enough to let in a full-grown man. And I could see a little shit vandal coming across a murder file and thinking it was cool enough to steal. I’ll bet it ends up online in the next day or two.”
I crossed my arms. I wasn’t buying it. “You really think it was kids?”
Cole sighed. “I don’t know,” he said. “Nobody we talked to yesterday seems like they’d track down where I live and break in to steal a file they never could’ve known I had.”
I sat with that for a minute. He was right. But it nagged at me. The whole thing really nagged at me. “Are we still going to talk to your FBI dude after we talk to Britta?”
“Definitely,” Cole said. “And I’ll let him know about the break-in, just in case.”
“Okay, good,” I said, thankful that Cole hadn’t lost all his good sense.