The hair on the back of her neck rose as she walked to Will’s car. She turned and scanned the small crowd. Had one of the men standing by the grave broken into her apartment? And maybe killed Lacey? And Stephanie? Which one? The ex-husband, Matthews? Or Spencer Delaney? Was Spencer the real reason Laura wouldn’t help free Jimmy? And Jared Donovan—why was he even here? Everyone present had been in the circle of friends eighteen years ago. They were all suspects, except Maggie.
Will couldn’t get Andi off his mind as he dressed for dinner with the Hollisters. By the time he dropped her off at her parents’, whatever she’d taken seemed to have worn off. But she had obviously been high when she’d driven there. What if . . . He took out his cell and quickly dialed Andi’s number.
“Are you still at your parents’?” he said when she answered.
“Yes. Why?”
“I just wanted to make sure you didn’t need a ride.”
“I can drive myself, Will.” She sounded annoyed. “Why are you asking me this?”
“Andi, there was something going on this afternoon. Was it the pain pills?”
“No! I just hadn’t eaten. I was fine as soon as I got food in me. Probably my blood sugar dropped.”
How he wanted to believe that.
“I haven’t had a pain tablet since early afternoon. There. Satisfied?”
“I just don’t want you to get hurt . . . or hurt someone else.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
He’d have to trust her. “Okay. See you soon.”
“Will . . .”
“Yes?”
“Nothing. Thanks for caring.”
If she only knew. But what if they started dating and messed up their friendship? None of his relationships worked—why would this one be different? And it wasn’t true, like he let everyone else believe, that the women always broke up with him.
Truth was, once the initial chase was over, he lost interest and the relationship died a natural death. Nobody’s fault, except his for thinking he could keep doing the same thing with different results. And he’d rather have Andi as a friend than not at all, because once he kissed her, he would cross a line that couldn’t be uncrossed.
Kiss her? Where did that come from? The doorbell rang, and he hurried to answer it, hopping on one foot until he slipped his loafer on. He didn’t remember Brad saying he’d stop by. It rang insistently once more before he got the door opened to his mother’s brittle smile. His stomach sank. “What do you want?”
“I know Mae told you I wanted to see you, so why didn’t you call?” she said as she walked past him into the apartment.
He pushed the door shut, rattling the windows. “Let me see,” he said, taking out his cell phone. “Hmm, looking under Mother, I don’t see a number . . . Let me look under Cass. Nope. It must have gotten deleted, maybe in one of those updates.”
She patted his cheek. “You always were a funny kid.”
“How would you know?” He ignored the voice whispering forgiveness in his ear. “You were never around unless one of your husbands kicked you out. But then, you never were good at relationships.”
Cass flinched. He’d scored one that time, but for a second, he wished he hadn’t. His mother brought out the very worst in him.
She lifted her chin. “I understand you don’t do much better on that front.”
Touché. Vindication spurred him on. “What do you want? Or, should it be, how much? Although I’m surprised that you’re already out of money. That last husband was loaded.”
“Yeah, well, I signed a prenup, and a quarter of a mill doesn’t go as far as it used to. But I don’t want any money from you this time.” She fumbled in her purse and drew out a pack of cigarettes, her fingers shaking as she extracted one. “Do you mind if I sit?”
“As long as you don’t smoke or plan to stay long. I have dinner plans.” His phone dinged an incoming text, and he glanced at it. His aunt. It was a little late to warn him that Cass was on her way over. “Excuse me a minute while I respond to this.”
Will was glad for an excuse to leave the room. If his mother wanted a new relationship with him like his aunt said, she sure went about it in a funny way. In his bedroom he read the message and closed his eyes, wishing Aunt Mae had never learned to text.
Please reconsider seeing your mother. She has cancer. Inoperable. She really does love you, Will. She just doesn’t know how to show it.
And she wouldn’t come begging, either. He dropped his head. He didn’t know what his aunt expected of him. Obviously more than he could give.
In the hallway, he stopped short of the living room and observed his mother. All bluster was gone. Cass’s shoulders drooped as she leaned against the sofa, one hand pressed to her mouth. The unlit cigarette dangled between the fingers of her other hand.
She was so frail. Inoperable cancer. A lump formed in his throat.
Cass hadn’t come for a handout, but he didn’t think he had it in him to give her what she wanted. Will swallowed the lump down. He could at least try to be civil.
He coughed and she jerked upright, squaring her shoulders. His apartment had the kitchen and living room combined, and he walked to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of water. “Like something to drink?”
“No, thank you. Get your business taken care of?”
“What? Oh, the text. Yeah.”
Inoperable cancer. The words chased themselves. “How long do you plan to be in Memphis?”
She gave him a curious glance. “I don’t know.”
“No new boyfriend on the horizon?” He had to keep up the pretense, at least until she told him about the cancer herself. Maybe she didn’t notice the softer edge to his voice.
“No, not presently. How about yourself—girlfriend?”
“No, you were right before. Can’t seem to keep one.”
“Relationships are the pits and highly overrated.” She stared at the unlit cigarette, then looked up at him and took a deep breath.
Whatever she was going to say was lost in the coughing fit that rocked her body. He grabbed another bottle of water from the refrigerator and uncapped it. “Here, see if this helps,” he said, handing it to her.
She sipped deeply, then said, “Sorry, that happens sometimes.” Cass handed him the cigarette she’d broken in the coughing spell. “Really need to give these cancer sticks up.”
He hesitated, trying to come up with the expected comeback. “If you do, you’ll send the tobacco companies into a recession.”
“Yeah.” She gave him a crooked grin. “Well, it was good to see you.” Cass stopped at the door. “Will . . .”
He waited. Now that he was really looking at her, he saw what a shell of a woman she was.
“Thanks for letting me come in,” she said and opened the door and slipped out.
The door closed with a soft click, and his feet, rooted to the floor, refused to move. Judging from how much weight she’d lost since the last time he saw her, death wasn’t far off, and then there’d never be an opportunity to make things right.
Still, he didn’t open the door and call her back. He couldn’t be the first one to make a move. It had to come from Cass.
23
ANDI SAT ON THE PORCH OF HER PARENTS’ HOUSE in east Memphis. She loved this neighborhood, and most of the neighbors had lived here when she was a child. For as long as she could remember, Friday night meant spaghetti or lasagna or something Italian.
As a child, Friday night was when she could invite friends over to eat because there’d be so much. Will and Jimmy had been regular guests until her parents moved to the big house in Germantown. Will because he was Brad’s best friend, and Jimmy because he was always wherever Stephanie was.
But even after they moved, Will found a way to get to their house on Fridays until his aunt and uncle moved away from Memphis, taking him with them.
Andi inhaled the honeysuckle that filled the air, bringing back memories of breaking off the end of the bloom and licking the
sweet liquid from the stamen. Of all the bad things that had happened when she was thirteen—her dad losing his job, her operation, Stephanie’s death—moving back home had not been one of them. Her gaze slid to the studio where they’d been earlier.
She was glad now her dad hadn’t torn the old house down—something he’d mentioned doing more than once. Odd that a bad thing was now a good thing, with the crime scene basically preserved. But how were her parents going to react to the news that the case was being reopened? The concrete that had lodged in her stomach earlier grew heavier.
Will had arrived a few minutes ago and was saying hello to her parents. She guessed she better join them.
The aroma of garlic and oregano met Andi at the front door, making her mouth water. “Mom,” she called.
“We’re in the kitchen.” Her mother’s voice floated from the back.
Her heart stilled when she saw Will. He glanced up, catching her gaze and holding it.
She should have changed into something more appealing, like the pink sweater she’d just bought, instead of the tights and long green shirt that reached halfway to her knees. At least she’d cinched a blingy silver belt at the waist.
“Something smells good,” she said, still looking at Will. She gave herself a mental shake. This was just Will. Brad’s friend. The same one who watched after her even when she didn’t want him to. The same one who almost kissed her Wednesday night. “Can I help with something?”
“Set the table. Your dad should be here soon with the dessert.”
“Where’s Brad?” Will asked.
“Tied up on some case. He said he’d be here by seven.”
Andi checked her watch. Seven fifteen. Her brother was cutting it beyond close. Surely he wasn’t going to leave telling their parents about the case to her. The back door swung open, and her dad came into the room, bringing a flat white box with Sally’s Bakery written on the side. She grabbed it. “You went all the way to Midtown for a cheesecake! What’s the occasion?”
“You’ll see.”
Andi exchanged glances with Will. The pinched look on his face reflected her feelings. It was bad enough to be the bearer of bad news, but if her parents were celebrating something, she didn’t want to bring them down. The back door opened again, and Brad entered the kitchen, wearing his gun and still in the clothes he’d worn earlier. He must have come straight from the CJC.
“Smells like Little Italy around here,” he said. “And cheesecake for dessert? We never have store-bought desserts unless there’s a special occasion.”
“You haven’t changed your clothes,” her mom said, disapproval in her voice.
“Sorry, Mom. I’m hungry,” Brad said, and then he nodded toward the box. “So . . . ?”
She shooed him toward the dining room table. “It will wait.”
Midway through the meal, Brad cleared his throat, and Andi kicked him under the table. She wanted him to wait until they knew what her parents’ announcement was.
When her dad consumed his last bite of cheesecake, he glanced at his wife. “Ready?”
She nodded, beaming. Andi had never seen her so excited.
Her dad sat a little straighter. “I’ve been offered an early retirement package, and I’m going to take it. Your mom and I are selling the house and buying a motor home so we can travel.”
Traveling around the country had been her dad’s dream for as long as Andi could remember. But with the case reopened, it’d make selling the house nearly impossible. Who wanted to buy property where someone had been murdered?
Andi and Brad exchanged looks, then she shifted her gaze to Will, who was sitting next to her father.
Confusion played in her dad’s eyes. “Well, don’t you have anything to say? Congratulations, maybe?”
“What’s the matter with you all?” her mom demanded.
Brad was the first to speak. “I’m sorry. I’m really glad you’re going to retire.”
“Me too,” Andi added. She gave Will a “say something” look.
“Yeah, that’s great, Mr. Hollister.” Excitement eluded Will’s voice, as it had the others.
Barbara Hollister sat back in her chair. “Well, if you get any more excited, you might get arrested for not disturbing the peace.” She folded her arms. “What’s going on? I suspected something when Will popped up—not that I’m not glad to have you, son, but you never come to dinner anymore.”
Brad took a breath. “Stephanie’s case is going to be reopened.”
Dead silence met his statement. Blood drained from her dad’s face, and he jumped to his feet. “Why?” He spit the word out. “Sunday it will be over with.”
Andi pressed her jaw together until it hurt. Tell them, Brad. She didn’t want to be the one.
“Mr. Hollister . . . Mrs. Hollister,” Will said, looking from one to the other, “my cousin may not have killed your daughter.”
Andi leaned forward. “He’s right. Jimmy Shelton received a letter saying he wasn’t her murderer.”
Her mother opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She looked toward her husband, but he was staring at Will.
“This is the way you repay our kindness?” he said. “Spreading lies. Your cousin killed my daughter. He confessed. I knew he’d hurt her one day, just not physically. And now, you.”
Will’s face was ashen. “I—”
“Don’t say a word.” Her dad rubbed his arm. “I’ve seen the way you look at Andi. Same way Jimmy looked at Steph. You hurt Andi and I’ll—” He pressed his hand against his chest, then felt in his pocket. “Where’s my nitro—”
Andi screamed as he fell.
“Call 911!” Will jumped to catch Tom Hollister, and with Brad’s help, eased him onto the dining room floor.
“Tom!” Barbara knelt beside him. She looked up at Will. “Help him.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The desperation in her voice spurred Will to work faster. He ripped Tom’s shirt open. “Do you feel a pulse?”
“Can’t find one,” Brad said. “Come on, Dad. You can make it.”
“I don’t think he’s breathing, either.” Will started compressions. “Do you have a defibrillator?”
Brad shook his head. “Never had a need for one before now. We can change places if the ambulance doesn’t get here soon.”
“I’m good.”
“The ambulance is on the way,” Andi said.
They weren’t far from a cardiac hospital. Soon a siren reached Will’s ears, giving him the energy to keep going. A few minutes later, he gladly released Tom Hollister to the paramedics’ care.
He found Andi in the living room, placing a washcloth on her mother’s forehead.
“Mom almost fainted,” she said. “And I convinced her to lie on the couch.”
He couldn’t bring himself to look either of them in the eye. He was afraid he’d see blame there.
Barbara Hollister removed the washcloth. “How’s Tom?”
“The paramedics are taking care of him.” Will turned as Brad came into the room.
“Dad’s responding,” he said. “And they’re getting him ready to transport.”
Barbara struggled to sit up. “I’m going with him.”
Andi went to get her mother’s purse, and Will turned to Brad. “I’m not going to the hospital.”
“Nonsense,” Barbara said. “You helped save his life.”
“This might not have happened if I hadn’t been here.” “I’ve seen the way you look at Andi.” Tom Hollister’s words rang in his ears, and he imagined they were probably hearing them again too. “If he knows I’m there, it’ll upset him.”
“This wasn’t your fault, son. We had to be told about the investigation, and I don’t know what got into my husband.” She squeezed his arm. “If Jimmy Shelton didn’t kill my Stephanie, I want you and Brad to find out who did.”
He covered her hand with his. “We will, Mrs. Hollister. I promise you that, but I still don’t think I should go to the hospital.”
“You
can keep us company, if nothing else.”
“Yeah,” Brad said. “You don’t have to go back and see Dad. At least not until he figures this thing out.”
Will couldn’t bring himself to look at Andi.
“Yeah,” she said softly. “Come with us.”
He looked up, and their gazes collided.
“Besides, we both know Dad was way off base—on everything he said.”
He released the breath he’d trapped in his chest. He and Andi could go back to normal.
So why didn’t that make him happy?
24
ONCE THEY MADE IT TO THE HOSPITAL, it became a waiting game, and Andi hated waiting. As soon as her dad was stabilized, her mom was allowed in the unit to be with him, and Andi paced back and forth in front of the darkened window. Why was God allowing this to happen?
She’d struggled with that question when Steph died. Why did God take the ones she needed? She didn’t know how Brad could stand so calmly and talk to Will.
The doors to ICU opened, and her mother hurried toward them.
“They’re taking him to the cath lab soon, and Dad sent me out here to tell you both he’s going to be all right,” she said. She nodded to a beige phone on a nearby table. “They’ll call us as things progress.”
Relief turned Andi’s legs to rubber, and with tears stinging her eyes, she found a chair and sat in it. Her mother joined her and handed her a tissue.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?”
Andi dabbed her eyes and nodded. She didn’t trust her voice. Her dad had always been bigger than life, her rock when her sister died. He was the one who told Andi after her heart surgery that she could be anything she wanted to be, that nothing should stop her from conquering the world.
Will handed her a cup of water, and she gratefully sipped it. That he’d seen her distress and wanted to do something about it touched her. She lifted her gaze, and the pain in his eyes almost undid her. “I’ve seen the way you look at Andi. Same way Jimmy looked at Steph.” Was it possible? She pushed the thought away.
“He’s not going to die,” Will said softly. “I’m here if you want to talk.”
Justice Delayed Page 22