by Jen Blood
“Just truth,” I said. “Justice is beyond my scope.”
He smiled at that. “What about Juarez?” he asked. “Any word from the Cuban commando?”
I thought of Jack’s words, and focused on drawing intricate patterns in my jeans so Diggs couldn’t read me. Been in love with you since you were sixteen. Yeah.
“I’m sorry about that whole thing,” I said. I managed to divert my attention from my denim etchings back to his face. “I know you and I aren’t…whatever, and you obviously don’t think of me that way anymore, which is totally understandable given, you know, everything. But it still wasn’t fair putting you in that position.”
He didn’t say anything for at least twelve Mississippis, but his smile was one I remembered from another life. He put his hand on my knee and stood up. Situated himself between my legs and got a lot closer than two BFFs typically get. The look he gave me was anything but brotherly.
“I didn’t say that,” he said.
“Didn’t say what?” It was suddenly much, much warmer in his office.
“I didn’t say I don’t think of you that way anymore.”
I blinked at him stupidly. “What do you mean? Yeah, you did.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t think of you that way—I said we shouldn’t go down that road. Then I got married. And I got divorced. And you got married. The timing was always a little off.”
He tangled his right hand in my hair and gave me a bemused half-smile.
“I never said I don’t think of you that way anymore, Solomon,” he repeated softly.
“But the other night…This whole visit—”
He rolled his eyes, but he still didn’t let me go. “Your marriage just fell apart. You just lost a baby, for Christ’s sake. You’ve been working twenty-eight hours a day trying to solve a mystery that’s been dogging you since you were a kid. Maybe I’m old fashioned, but it didn’t seem like the best time to make a move.”
I tried to remember the basic mechanics of breathing in and out. “And now?” I asked.
His lips hovered just a millisecond from mine. “I guess we’ll see,” he said.
The conversation was clearly headed in a direction I hadn’t expected. Before we could get there, my cell phone rang. Diggs looked mildly amused.
I let it ring once more.
“You should probably get that.” He took a step back so I could dig through my purse. My knees were shaking and a lot of parts that had been solid before I walked into the office had liquefied in the past five minutes.
It was Juarez. Now, Diggs looked really amused. He grinned, eyes sparkling when I answered.
“Are you at a computer?” Juarez asked without preamble.
I was still stuck at the part where Diggs had me pressed against the desk, so it took a second to switch gears. Once I had, I pushed Diggs out of the way none-too-gently and turned his laptop toward me.
“I just sent you something,” Juarez said.
I checked my e-mail and clicked on a link he’d forwarded. It led to a breaking news story in Olympia, Washington.
Former Senator Jane Bellows Found Murdered In Her Home.
I froze. Diggs scanned the headline over my shoulder.
“That’s the woman, right?” Juarez asked. “That was the phone number Noel had written down with your father’s name next to it?”
“Yeah. That was her.”
A former senator.
“I’m booking a flight,” Juarez said. “Are you coming?”
I looked at Diggs. He nodded like he knew exactly what was happening.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’ll be there.”
I hung up the phone.
Diggs glanced at his watch. “When do we leave?”
THE END
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ALL THE BLUE-EYED ANGELS on Amazon
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The Erin Solomon Mysteries
Book I: All the Blue-Eyed Angels
Book II: Sins of the Father
The brutal murder of a young girl more than forty years ago pulls Erin Solomon into a serpentine mystery revolving around her own father’s dark past. Soon, it’s clear that the man Erin thought she knew has buried secrets she never could have imagined. When her reckless pursuit of the truth lands Erin and fellow reporter Daniel Diggins in the rugged wilderness along the Maine/Canada border with a deranged serial killer on their heels, FBI agent Jack Juarez battles the clock while Diggs and Erin fight for their lives in a diabolical game of cat and mouse among the rivers and caves of the Acadian forest.
Book III: Southern Cross
The four horsemen are at the gate in Justice, Kentucky.
Diggs and Solomon travel to Kentucky to look into the bizarre ritual murder of one of Diggs' oldest friends. But that single death is hardly the only bizarre occurrence in Justice: soon, power outages, explosions, standoffs, and conspiracy rock the small town, and fundamentalist preacher Jesup T. Barnel claims he knows the reason for the madness: The end times are upon them, and judgment will be fast and furious as the clock winds down.
Book IV: Before the After
Questions answered. Lies revealed. And someone will pay the ultimate price in Erin’s ongoing quest for the truth…
Using a code found on an encrypted memory card at the scene of their last case, Diggs and Solomon are closer than ever to discovering the truth behind the Payson Church, Mitch Cameron, and a company known as J. Enterprises that lies at the heart of the mystery that’s haunted Erin since childhood. BEFORE THE AFTER takes readers on a journey into some of the deepest mysteries in American history, in an action-packed romantic thriller that will leave you breathless.
Book V: The Book of J
The final instalment in Erin Solomon’s five-book Payson Pentalogy,
coming in November, 2014!
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Though I have been writing for many years, ALL THE BLUE-EYED ANGELS is the novel that taught me how to tell a story. A multitude of people helped me in the lengthy process to bring that to light. I owe a great debt to the wonderful readers and writers in my writing groups along the way: Brady, Devon, Dom, Sara, Daniel, David, Jeff, Terri, and Paige. Special thanks to Harvey Ardman for his stellar editing and insights in the final leg of this very long journey. I cannot say enough about the generosity and talent of the mentors with whom I’ve worked at Goddard College and the Stonecoast MFA: Shelley Vermilya, Lucinda Garthwaite, Dennis Lehane, Suzanne Strempek-Shea, Roland Merullo, Mike Kimball, and the inimitable Lewis Robinson. For their patience, optimism, and support, I thank my parents, my beleaguered brother Mike—who never signed up to share his life with a writer but who, for better or worse, seems to be doing just that—and his beautiful family, Brandi, Maggie, and Maya. And, finally, I offer my profound gratitude to Sergeant Kenneth Grimes and the Maine State Fire Marshal’s office, Sergeant Don Finnegan of the Rockland Police Department, and my old chum Jim Metcalf of the Bangor Fire Department, all of whom took time out of very busy schedules to provide me with information and background so that this story might have some semblance of realism to it.
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