Finding Truth (The Searchers Book 3)

by Ripley Proserpina

  “Love you, too.” As he moved away to get his coffee, he checked his watch. “We’re getting down to the wire.”

  Her stomach clenched, and she brushed the crumbs from her fingers. “I’m ready.”

  She stood, and pitched her empty cup into the garbage nearby. The comic book store was a short walk away at the top of Congregation Street, the popular pedestrian market in Brownington. Seok popped the last bite of scone into his mouth and took her hand.

  When they got to the comic shop, Seok surprised her by coming inside. Nora almost stopped him. It was somehow reminiscent of being dropped off at the first day of school. But given that no one ever had dropped her at school, or cared to see her off on her first day, she let it go.

  “Nora.” Frank glanced up at her from where he was reading behind the counter. “Welcome.” He flung his glasses onto the table and came around to greet her. “And Seok Jheon. One of my favorite customers.”

  Nora glanced sharply at Seok. She’d known he was the resident comic expert and should have assumed he’d be a regular at Frank’s.

  “Are you here to see if there’s a friends and family discount? There isn’t.” Frank chuckled, holding out his hand to Seok, who shook it and laughed along with him.

  “I wanted the next Saga issue,” he said. “Do you have it?”

  “I should have known. Got them Friday. Nora, can you find the comic Seok wants? It’s in the indie section.”

  “Sure.” She took off her jacket and stuffed it beneath the desk. During one of her first interviews, her new boss had shown her the store. It was small and cluttered, full not only of comics, but toys, or figurines, as Frank had called them.

  She went to the indie section to scan through various genres. It took her a few minutes, but she eventually found the comic Seok wanted in the science fiction section. The cover got her attention. It was a picture of a man with horns and a woman holding a baby, but she stifled the urge to read and brought it to Seok. “Here.”

  “Thanks.” He flipped through the pages. “No!” he yelled, shutting the comic and sighing.

  “Stop skipping to the middle,” Frank said.

  “Can’t help it,” he muttered, pulling out his wallet and walked to the counter.

  “Ring him up, would you?” Frank told Nora.

  She touched the iPad sitting on the counter and hoped it would lead her through the purchasing process. With Frank at her side, watching her inventory the book as sold then tally the amount owed, she managed to complete her first transaction. Beneath the desk was a stack of bags, and she slid the book inside before handing it to Seok.

  “Take a picture of us?” he asked Frank.

  “Seok!” Mortified, she grabbed his phone before he could hand it to Frank.

  “What? I want to preserve this moment.”

  Afraid her new boss would be put out, she glanced at him, but he only smiled indulgently. “Gimme the phone,” he groused, taking it from Nora. “Cell phones go away during work hours. Got it?”

  “Yes.” She glared at Seok.

  “Take the picture, Frank,” he said through clenched teeth, a smile plastered to his face.

  After he snapped it quickly, he handed the phone back to Seok and clapped his hands. “Now. Ready for your first day?”

  “Yes.” So ready. This day had been weeks in the making. Each interview she went to and each job she’d been denied had led here—to gainful employment.

  “See you later.” Seok interrupted the turn of her thoughts with a wave and a wink.

  He headed out the door, and Nora turned her attention back to her boss. “What do you want me to do?”

  A wicked glint appeared in his eyes. “All the stuff I hate.”

  She couldn’t help laughing. “All right. Show me.”

  Her day was spent doing things that probably hadn’t been done for years: dusting shelves, carefully cleaning figurines, inventorying the back room. As business picked up after lunch, Nora nervously manned the register, cashing people out or searching for comics they didn’t have online and placing orders with other stores.

  Each time Nora’d been in the comic shop, it hadn’t seemed busy, but today she realized it did steady business. There was always a person or two in the shop, and they didn’t just browse. Generally, they bought two or three comics.

  “Most of my business actually comes from online,” he explained as they sipped the coffees she’d run out to collect. “I’m going to have you filling orders the rest of the afternoon.”

  “Okay,” she answered, amenably.

  She and Frank got on easily. Nora tried her best to help customers, and when she didn’t know an answer, her boss didn’t seem upset. He merely pointed her in the direction to find the answers herself. At the end of the day, Frank asked her to complete the close-out activities, one of which was collecting the daily newspapers and tying them up.

  “The papers—collect them for recycling. I get some money back depending on the amount left. Not much, but a percentage. Don’t know how much longer they’ll even be printing these. Everyone gets their news online now, but I have a few holdouts who appear every day with their dollar for an actual paper.”

  Hefting the local papers in her arms, Nora placed them on the twine she’d laid out. The headline and picture on the cover made her pause. College Students Arrested for Neighborhood Street Racing. Beneath the cover was a mug shot of the girl she’d seen at Brownington College with Matisse. They’d been hanging out in a parking lot, seated on their motorcycles with helmets under their arms.

  She scanned the article. The police had become aware of motorcycle races over the summer. After multiple complaints from residential areas, they’d set up a sting, and last night, they’d blocked an intersection and arrested a number of people. The names were listed in the article, the girl as Angelique Comtois. Nora didn’t recognize any other names, and she released a breath when she didn’t come across Matisse’s.

  Grateful she only had fifteen minutes left of her shift, she pushed her anxiety away and focused on finishing the last tasks Frank required of her. Her fingers trembled as she tied the knot and lifted the pile to place outside.

  “Good work today,” Frank said when she came back in. “I’ll see you next Sunday.”

  “If you need me sooner—” she began, but he interrupted.

  “Sunday will be good. We’ll start with additional hours the following week.” It was what he’d promised when he’d hired her, but she couldn’t help hoping her performance today would have prompted him to have her come in more.

  “Okay.” At least she wasn’t fired. “Thanks for hiring me.”

  “You’re a good worker, Nora. And smart. We’ll get along fine. See you Sunday. Same time.”

  She grabbed her coat from beneath the desk, put it on and waved. “See you.”

  Outside, it was colder than it’d been earlier. The weather was messing with her. She couldn’t figure out if she should be expecting winter or an Indian summer. November was too late for Indian summers. At least, it had been most of her life.

  Hurrying up the block, she passed city workers stringing garland and lights from street lamps. Some of them adjusted speakers in preparation for the Christmas music they’d soon be piping along the pedestrian mall.

  Home was only a mile away, but she couldn’t get there fast enough. Despite knowing Matisse had made it in last night, she worried about what she might find when she got there. What if he’d been arrested? What if he was in jail right now? What would happen to him if he was in trouble?

  Exercise had never been her thing, but her worry for Matisse lit a fire under her ass. She jogged as far as she could then walked to catch her breath. It didn’t help that her house was on the top of the hill and she had five steep blocks to climb.

  She hoped Apollo didn’t see her. He’d make her go to the gym with him.

  As the house came into view, she noted the cars parked in the driveway. If they were any indication, everyone except Cai would be
home.

  Nora barreled into the house, hung up her coat quickly and called out, “Tisse? Matisse!”

  “What’s the matter, Nora?” Footsteps pounded down the steps, and then Ryan was gripping her shoulders. He studied her from head to foot, looking for injuries.

  “Is Matisse here?” She peered around him. “Have you seen him today?”

  “He’s still at the hospital with Cai,” he answered, green eyes narrowing. “Why?”

  “Have you read the paper today?” she asked. How much did Ryan know? He must know about Matisse. The guys knew everything about each other.

  “No,” he said slowly. “Why?”

  He followed her into the living room where she collapsed onto the sofa. “Does Matisse race motorcycles?” It was better to just come out with it.

  Ryan’s head jerked back, eyes widening in surprise. “How—Who—”

  “He does.” She knew it. It explained the late nights and the sleeping all day. It fit Matisse, a guy who risked his neck to climb a tree and serenade his girlfriend when he offended her. “Did he race last night? Was he arrested with everyone else?”

  “What are you talking about?” Taking out his phone, he searched the local news then he sat next to her. “Shit.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t he tell me?” she wondered aloud. “I—What if he got hurt? These races, Ryan, they go right through neighborhoods.”

  “He’s never done this before,” he explained slowly, and she saw the truth in his eyes. “He and his friends—there are tracks all around the state. Small ones. I didn’t know he was racing in town.”

  “He’s lucky he didn’t kill himself,” she muttered. “Where’d I put my phone?” Given to her by Dr. Murray, the professor at Brownington College who directed the study Nora participated in, she often didn’t carry it with her. She’d decided, passive aggressively, not to bring it with her if she didn’t want to leave whatever she was doing. Dr. Murray insisted on her being available for testing or interviews whenever he needed her, but today being her first day on the job, she’d left it at home.

  She took the steps two at a time. Her legs protested with each lunge. Maybe she shouldn’t pooh-pooh exercise. Getting winded going upstairs was ridiculous.

  Her phone was where she left it on her bureau. Part of her cringed as she turned it on, expecting to see a message from Dr. Murray, but it was blank. Quickly, she sent off a message to Tisse, asking when he’d be home.

  Her phone buzzed immediately. On my way.

  Ryan knocked on her door, waiting until she gestured to come inside. “He’s on his way back.”

  She held up her phone. “I know. I’m...” She thought about what to do, how best to approach him. Attacking him wasn’t fair. He was a grown man who made his own decisions. But what he was doing was dangerous. And illegal. “I’m going to meet him,” she told Ryan.

  “Want me to come?”

  “No.” She needed to understand what he was doing, and why. Was it just to be a badass or was there something else going on? Either way, it was a discussion she wanted to keep between the two of them. “I’d like to talk to him on my own, if you don’t mind.”

  “No.” Smiling, he tucked her under his arm. “I don’t mind. When you come back, will you tell me all about your first day of work?”

  She nodded and kissed his chest. Once downstairs, Ryan watched her get her coat and boots back on. “You’re not worried about Tisse?” she asked as she zipped the coat to her chin.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know yet. I’ll worry when there’s a reason to worry.”

  Huh. What a concept. Nora wasn’t built that way. She worried about everything. Things she could fix, things she couldn’t fix. Things she’d done, things she hadn’t done. Ryan’s words were a revelation.

  With a small wave, she headed back outside. The streetlamp had come on, and the neighbors’ houses spilled muted lights onto the sidewalk. It was still early enough that people hadn’t drawn their curtains, so each house was like a scene from a movie. People at work in their daily lives, unaware anyone might peek to see how they’d decorated their living rooms.

  Brownington College Hospital was only a few blocks away, situated on the highest peak of the hill. The small city of Brownington was built on a series of hills. Nora remembered her mother talking about Nora’s grandfather and how there used to be bars at the base of each hill. Each evening, her grandfather would go to the bar at the top of the hill. As the night wore on, he’d work his way downhill and pass out by the time he got to the last one on the shores of Lake Champlain. When Nora was younger and the bus would pick her up from the old North End to take her to the high school, she’d count each hill to figure out how many there were.

  Ahead of her in the darkness, she could make out a tall, lean figure loping toward her. Matisse.

  “Hey!” she called. The figure’s head jerked up at her words. “Matisse!”

  He jogged toward her. As he passed under a streetlamp, the light shone off his dark hair. It was getting long, resting below his shoulders. His jacket didn’t look warm enough. He’d turned up the collar and buried his hands in the pockets.

  “Are you crazy?” she asked when she saw it was a blazer, not a jacket. “It’s November.”

  “It was warm this afternoon, cher.”

  She breathed in his smell then breathed in again. “Have you been smoking?” Lapel in hand, she sniffed again.

  “Guilty. I promise it’s not a habit,” he answered. He shivered a little, and she dropped her arms to take his hand and drag him back toward the house.

  “Come on, it’s too chilly to be out like this.”

  “You worried about me?” he asked, his voice low.

  “Of course I worry,” she answered. “I worry about you not wearing the right clothes”—she dove in—“and I worry about you racing motorcycles through residential neighborhoods.”

  He stumbled to a stop. “Who told you?”

  “It’s true?” she asked, curling her fingers around his arm and staring into his face. Like he looked for someone to rescue him, he focused his dark eyes over her head.

  “Who told you?” he asked again, the words choppy.

  She realized he thought one of the guys narced on him. “No one told me. I read it in the paper and recognized your friend, Angelique. I’m not a dummy. I put two and two together and came up with four.”

  “Angelique?” Confused, he drew his wing-tipped brows low over his eyes.

  “She was arrested. For racing. You own a bike. You’ve been out all night, sleeping all day...”

  He continued to stare at her in confusion.

  “You’re not an enigma, Matisse.” She huffed. “It was pretty easy to figure out.”

  “I’m easy to figure out?” he repeated. He strode away from her, leaving her in the dark.

  “Are you angry because I know?” she asked and hurried after him to stop him. “Or—Wait. Why are you angry?”

  “Because you insulted me.”

  “I didn’t insult you,” she countered.

  “Yes, you did. You said I was easy to figure out.”

  “That’s not an insult, Matisse. What do you want me to do? Pretend I didn’t know? Spare your feelings because you like to be mysterious?” Okay, maybe that was too far.

  He spun around to face her, his hand slicing through the air. “This is none of your business, cher. It doesn’t affect you or impact you in anyway.”

  “Matisse.” Her temper threatened to get out of control. So she reined it in with a deep breath. “Of course it affects me. What if something happened to you? What if you were arrested?”

  “I wouldn’t get arrested, Nora. Not for this. I’m not stupid.”

  She stumbled back like he’d struck her. He must have seen the wallop his words packed because he stepped after her. “That wasn’t what I meant,” he added quickly. “I didn’t mean you. Not at all.”

  “I know.” She did. It was his anger, and his belief that his
well-being didn’t matter to her, that truly upset her. “Why?” she asked, needing to understand. “Why would you put yourself at risk like this? What if something happened to you?”

  “You’re upset because you were afraid something would happen to me? That I would be injured?”

  “Injured or arrested, or hurt someone else accidentally. All those things.” She ticked them off on her fingers.

  The idea seemed to never have occurred to him. “You worry, and you’re upset because something might have happened to me.”

  “Yes,” she said, resisting the urge to add, “duh.”

  He nodded along with her, two bobble-heads in the night. “Oh. Okay.” He shuddered, stuffing his hands back in his pocket before sticking his elbow out for her to grab. “I’ll explain, but let’s go inside. I’m not built for this cold weather.”

  5

  Nora

  Maybe Nora shouldn’t have lashed out at Matisse like she did, but God, the man was frustrating. There were times where he focused on the smallest details and lost the big picture. As they walked back inside, her worry returned with a vengeance. Having this discussion with the other guys wasn’t her plan, and knowing Matisse, it could easily backfire. She could see him becoming defensive or feeling ganged up on. Having been on the receiving end of such conversations herself, she wanted to avoid putting any of the other guys in that situation.

  As they came inside, Ryan glanced up from where he read on the sofa. “You found him.” His eyes flicked to Matisse. Nora glanced awkwardly between the two of them as they had a conversation with no words.

  “Yes,” she answered.

  Breaking eye contact, Matisse stared at the floor and blew on his hands before he removed his boots. “The other guys around?” He found a seat on the sofa and splayed his long legs.

  “Seok’s in the basement. Apollo’s not back from the gym.”

  “Are we having this discussion with everyone?” Voice sly, fingers tapping on the arm of the couch, Matisse projected both nervousness and disinterest. He reminded Nora of a teenager about to be disciplined, affecting cool.