I gasped, partly in shock, partly in mock drama. “Really? You’d vote against my brother.”
“You see, that’s the problem. If Rex were running against anyone else, this man would totally have my vote. But I like your family too much to not support Ralph, even if I do trash-talk him sometimes.”
I’d heard the debates between Jamie and Ralph before. Jamie wasn’t one to back down from an argument. She let you know how she felt and when she felt that way. But she was loyal, and I was thankful for that.
“What is it about Rex that you like?” I watched people gather around the man as if he were a celebrity.
“He doesn’t seem all proper, like the Washington, D.C., type, you know? He grew up in a working-class family—”
“So did Ralph, “I reminded her.
“But you guys are different. You might be working class, but you’ve got everything together, at least on the surface. Guys like Rex, they had to fight their way to the top. He knows what that’s like.”
To hear her talk, it was a wonder that Ralph was ahead in the polls. I think it had to do, in part, with my family’s standing in the area. My mom served on a million different boards, and probably a lot of those people would vote for Ralph. Then there was my sister and the people who worked with her. All of those people I supposed encompassed the upper echelons of people in our community, however.
Rex’s supporters came from the bad parts of town. They had very little, so Rex’s promises had to tempt them, even if only a fraction of them were true. The man chose not to wear ties and nice suits. Instead, he wore shirts unbuttoned at the collar with nice jeans.
The man was no dummy, that was for sure.
The election was getting closer and closer. If something like what I’d done was discovered, it could cost my brother the win.
And his defeat would be on my shoulders.
I wondered if my brother would forgive me before I died.
“Come on. Let’s get out of here,” Jamie said, just as people began to disperse. “I want to swing by that organic bakery. They have the best almond-flour muffins ever.”
***
Jamie had talked me into trying a muffin, and I had to admit, they weren’t bad. We were walking back to her van when a group of people rounded the corner.
“If it isn’t Holly Paladin,” someone said.
That’s when I recognized Rex Harrison and his posse.
Rex knew me. Not only had we spoken at the awards ceremony, but we’d also met at the youth center. He’d been there campaigning, even though I really thought it was more of a PR opportunity. In fact, Brian had given me a lecture because I hadn’t insisted to Abraham that he reject Rex coming in favor of Ralph.
Just one more reason why I didn’t like politics. They made things way too complicated.
“Hello, Rex,” I managed.
His eyes sparkled with recognition a moment before he took my hand and kissed the top. “Hello, Holly Paladin.”
Just then, I heard someone snap a picture. Lovely. The fact that I was cavorting with the enemy had been documented.
I quickly pulled my hand back and tucked it safely into the pocket of my gray wool petticoat.
“It was nice to see you at my rally.” He looked a little too smug for my comfort.
“I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.” I raised my chin.
He grinned, as if I’d paid him a compliment. “I don’t believe in coincidences.”
“Start believing, Rex. You need to start believing.” His kind of charm might work on some people, but not on me. Sure, I’d been wrong about people before. Take Chase for example. But Rex just seemed too slick to me.
“And who is this vision with you?” He turned to Jamie, appearing all debonair and suave.
Jamie actually giggled. I’d never seen my friend giggle before, not in our ten years of friendship. “I’m Jamie.”
He kissed her hand. “You’re lovely.”
“Thank you.” She giggled again.
I scowled, and someone else snapped another picture. This was just great. I had a feeling these images were going to be all over social media.
“My day is brighter now that I’ve met you,” he murmured, his gaze locked on Jamie.
I rolled my eyes. He was a charmer. I just couldn’t believe Jamie was falling for it. Not my tough-as-nails friend. She was a better judge of people than this.
“I hope to see you both around,” he finished, a smile tugging at his lips. “It was lovely running into you.”
With a curt nod toward me, he and his entourage left. What kind of man used the word “lovely”?
I stood there, waiting until they were a decent distance away before turning my scowl on Jamie, who looked a bit starstuck with a dopey smile on her face, an almond-flour muffin crumb on her lip, and a dazed look in her eyes. My sunshine-inspired friend was glowing so much I needed sunglasses. “Really?”
Her smile slipped as she snapped back to reality. “What?”
“You fell for that?”
“Is it too much to believe that he thinks I’m great?” Her lips pursed as she waited for my answer. Every once in a while, her sass kicked in strong. She usually reserved that for people who weren’t her friends and who really ticked her off.
I softened my voice. “No, you are great. I just think he’s smarmy. You can do better than someone who just tells people what they want to hear.”
Her eyebrow cocked up. “Do better than someone running for office? Than someone who has risen up from nothing? Someone who’s managed to get half the city to back him?”
She had a point. But there was more to people than a list of their accomplishments. “I just don’t trust him.”
“You’re the one who always turns heads. It’s nice to know what that feels like.”
I opened my mouth and then shut it again. My friend didn’t very often admit to any insecurities. Sometimes it was just better not to have the last word.
CHAPTER 19
“So, you really think all of these murders boil down to some new synthetic drug?” Jamie asked as we drove back down the road to my house.
I shrugged, just happy to be on a different subject. “That’s what it sounds like. I mean, who knows? It could be a twisted killer doing what he thinks is best for the city. It could be someone with a vendetta toward drug users. I have no idea. I was trained as a CPS investigator to see signs of abuse and to find solutions. I was never trained to figure out answers as to why people act the way they do.”
“That’s the great mystery.”
“I also know that drugs and alcohol can make people act in unbelievable ways. It makes them do things they regret. If the killer is being influenced by drugs himself, then he may not even have a reason. He may just be acting on impulses that are exacerbated by the drugs.”
We continued down the road, and I turned my thoughts over and over with each rotation of the tires. I wished I did have some answers.
“Did you recognize anyone at the scene of the third murder? They’re not connected with you in any way, are they?”
I stared out the car window. “Not that I know of. I mean, I don’t even know the guy’s name who died. The police couldn’t tell me much. I talked to his mom, but she just kept calling him ‘her boy.’ I’d never seen her before, though.”
“Was that crime scene close to the other two?”
“A couple of blocks away.”
“Where was the second scene?”
“The second scene was actually right down that road.” I pointed at the street on my left.
“Here?” Jamie took a sudden turn, sending me smashing into my door.
“It’s farther up the road, though.” I rubbed my shoulder.
“My mom used to always tell me to stay away from this street at night,” she muttered.
“There are probably a lot of places around here you should stay away from at night.” As if to confirm the sentiment, two men talking on the sidewalk stopped an
d stared at Jamie’s van as we passed.
People around here knew when an outsider was in the area; they didn’t like it. They only trusted their own.
Even though I’d grown up on the outskirts of this neighborhood, I didn’t count as a local in this area, mostly because I lived in a little section of houses that were five times as nice as the rest. My family refused to give up hope that this part of the city would one day be restored to its former glory.
I pointed to a house down the road. “Her place is down there. Why do you want to see it, anyway?”
“You just never know when something will trigger something somehow. That’s a lot of ‘somes,’ I know, but you know?”
“Somewhat. Yes, I know. What do you know?”
We laughed, and the tension from earlier seemed to be broken. That was good, because there was no one else in the world who understood my goofy humor like Jamie.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do without you, Holly.”
Her words made me catch my breath, made my throat ache uncontrollably.
She braked and looked over at me. Tears pooled in her eyes. Jamie never cried. Like never, ever cried. Ever.
And I had no idea what to say.
It will be okay.
I’ll always be there for you.
Nothing’s ever going to change.
Those promises only worked if you were still alive.
Instead, a tear spilled down my cheek until we were both sobbing. It was the first time we’d ever addressed the fact that our friendship here on this earth wouldn’t last until we were old and gray. I was going to die, and Jamie would be left here without a sidekick.
Life was going to go on without me. That thought was sobering, to say the least.
She grabbed a tissue. “Are you sure chemo won’t help? Because I can’t stand the thought of you not being here.”
“It would only extend my life by a few months, if that. It’s not worth it. Quality over quantity, right? That makes sense to me. I don’t want my final days to be like my dad’s final days. I want my life to be about living, not dying.”
“It just doesn’t seem real.” She shook her head.
“Maybe I should start interviewing some candidates to take over for me as best friend.” I tried to keep my voice light, knowing the idea was ludicrous.
“Interviewing candidates?” She sent me an incredulous look.
I nodded, trying to look serious despite the fact that my chest ached at the thought. “What about Sheila at the newspaper? She seems nice.”
“She doesn’t get my humor.”
“Okay, how about your neighbor? What’s her name—Nikki?”
“She thinks the fact that I’m an armchair detective is stupid.”
Well, she wouldn’t work, then. “I know! Tameka at church. She seems sweet.”
“She is nice . . . but she’s not you.”
We both sniffled and hugged.
This conversation was making reality set in, and I didn’t like it. I’d rather live in ignorant bliss. But, as time passed, that wasn’t going to be an option.
She drew in a shaky breath and fanned her face. “Okay, I’ve got to get a grip.”
She put the van back into drive and cruised down the road. The Rex Harrison sign in front of Desiree’s house stared at me, even from a block away. Her house was the only one displaying his smiling mug, but a moment of foreshadowing clouded my mind. I wondered if my brother really would win this election.
Something else caught my eye. I grabbed Jamie’s arm. “Slow down.”
“What’s going on?”
I pointed to Desiree’s house and the man walking across the lawn there. “Please tell me I’m seeing things.”
Jamie squinted. “Who is that?”
“That’s Brian. And, for some reason, he’s leaving Desiree’s house.”
CHAPTER 20
“Follow him.” My voice sounded more authoritative than I’d expected, and I liked it.
“Yes, ma’am. I like how you think, my friend.”
My smile faded. I tried to imagine Jamie doing this with Tameka one day. It wasn’t jealousy that I felt, just a profound sense of loss. But I didn’t have time to dwell on that now.
As Brian pulled away from the street in his plush Lexus, my mind raced. What in the world would he have been doing at Desiree’s? It made no sense.
Brian wasn’t the type of guy who liked to be hands-on like that. He was an expert at social media, and he could write a mean press release and even orchestrate an award-worthy press conference. But he hung out with people who were just like him—idealistic college graduates who drove foreign cars, liked drinking mimosas for breakfast, and worked twelve-hour days, rewarding themselves twice a year with a nice, very expensive vacation.
I expected him to travel back to his apartment downtown. Or maybe to his favorite restaurant, this tapas bar he talked about all the time. Maybe he’d even head over to Ralph’s so they could talk more about the election and strategize about Twitter campaigns and how to keep every hair perfectly in place.
Instead, he headed down to the warehouse district, an industrial area that had seen better days.
“Just what is he up to?” I whispered. “Make sure you stay a safe distance behind him. I don’t want him to recognize us.”
Thank goodness we had Jamie’s van and not my Mustang.
“I’ve never thought Brian was the one for you,” Jamie muttered. “Can I just say that this 100 percent confirms it?”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions. Maybe he has a perfectly rational reason to be here.” Not that I could think of a single one that seemed plausible.
Jamie’s little grunt let me know she didn’t believe that for a minute either.
We slowed down as Brian pulled over to the side of the road. He parked his car, stepped out, and looked both directions.
Which was suspicious within itself.
None of this was making any sense, and I was having a terrible time trying to wrap my mind around it.
He slipped inside the warehouse.
“I wonder what’s going on inside there,” Jamie whispered.
“Maybe they’re stuffing campaign flyers into newspapers.”
Jamie swerved her head toward me, and gave me what I called her “what the what?” look. “Sure they are.”
“Or maybe they’re manufacturing a synthetic drug that’s killing teenagers and bringing a certain neighborhood to shambles,” I mumbled. Saying the words out loud made me tremble with fear.
“Now you’re thinking.”
“And, just in case that second theory is correct, it wouldn’t be wise to barge in and see what’s happening, now would it?” I pictured it happening. The outcome wasn’t pretty.
“Oh, no. Not wise at all. They’ll take one look at you in that pretty little dress and eat you alive.”
I stared at the building. There were no signs to indicate what it was or had been. There were no windows to peer in. All I saw was that heavy steel door at the front.
“What now?” Jamie asked.
“Now we wait and see how long Brian is inside. You have time?”
“I have an article due in the morning. I’ll stay up all night doing it if I have to. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
***
We stayed for an hour. That’s when Brian left. Of course, we’d followed him, but he’d only gone home.
I considered calling Chase. But I had nothing to go on. And, if I was wrong and this was some innocent operation on Brian’s account, then I’d be setting up not only Brian, but my brother as well.
I didn’t want to play the political game, but was that exactly what I was doing? If Brian weren’t affiliated with my brother, would I have called the cops right away?
I’d like to think the answer was no. After all, I had no evidence. Everything here could be aboveboard. What would I say when I called the police?
I saw a friend of mine leave a bad neighborhood and stop
at an unmarked warehouse? That excuse didn’t seem very compelling.
At the moment, I was at Jamie’s church. I knew that probably sounded weird, since I’d gone to my own church that morning. I always said that I went to my church to feed my brain. We were firm on doctrine and theology, and my pastor could deliver a great sermon that made me really think about the way I was living my life. We had more than six hundred members, a strong young career class—which ironically was where I’d met my fiancé, the one who’d broken up with me when my dad was ill—and there was some kind of activity going on there every night of the week, it seemed. I could spend all of my free time at the church and never have to step foot into the real world. They even had a gym!
But I went to Jamie’s church because it fed my soul. I loved hearing the people worship there. I loved the heartfelt yet imperfect music. I loved how everyone got swept up in the Spirit.
True, I was the only white girl there. But I’d been going to the little church, which met in an old storefront and had around sixty members, for more than a year, and I loved it. Everyone there called me “sugar,” and “sweetie,” and one lady even called me “white chocolate.”
I had no rhythm, but that didn’t stop them from putting a tambourine in my hands on occasion. That didn’t stop me from singing out. The pastor’s sermons always got a lot of “amens” and “hallelujahs” and left me feeling fired up.
After the service, Jamie was talking with someone. Tameka, actually. I pushed aside thoughts of her bonding with Tameka and pulling away from me in order to deal more effectively with my death. Instead, I sat beside Jamie’s brother, John.
Jamie’s parents, Louis and Val, had been determined to name their children after the twelve disciples. Not only that, they’d had a “feeling” they’d only have boys. Instead, they were only able to have three children, and one was a girl. Therefore, they had Peter, Jamie, and John. I got a chuckle out of it every time I thought about it.
Since then, they’d adopted three more boys from Haiti, and named them Andrew, Philip, and Matthew.
John was nineteen, and though I believed he was a good kid at heart, he’d gotten wrapped up in the same strongholds that a lot of people his age did. He’d played with drugs. Had some rough friends. Done some stupid things. He’d caused his family some grief throughout it all, but at least he was here at church now.
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