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“We just think she might have some information that could be helpful to the case,” Jack adds. “Just like you did.”
“Oh.” Stella looks disappointed. She doesn’t like Cleo either. It’s hard to like someone who is constantly putting you down. “Okay, well, good luck with that I guess.” She taps her fingernails on the table. “How about me?” she asks. “Should I be doing anything to, you know, counteract whatever that Thorner guy is going to try and bring against me?”
“Just hang tight for now,” Jack tells her. “He’s got nothing on you guys but a little bit of circumstantial evidence.”
“Okay.” Stella nods.
“There is one other somewhat unrelated thing we need from you, though” he says carefully. “Something I think might loosen Cleo’s lips a little bit.”
“Of course, anything you need,” Stella enthuses. “Just name it.”
***
“THANKS FOR STANDING up for me back there,” I tell Jack as he puts the car in cruise control on the highway. As I speak my fingers fiddle nervously with the clasp of the manila envelope he gave me to hold onto, this one containing the photo of Ian and Cleo. Stella gave it to us at Jack’s request.
“Don’t mention it,” Jack replies with his typical gruffness. The man can never seem to accept any show of gratitude. Maybe I should kiss him again. You know, purely as an expression of my gratitude. “You really didn’t know Ian was on that stuff?” he asks before I can get completely lost in a fantasy where I tell him I’m going to get an appropriate you’re welcome out of him if it’s the last thing I do, but then end up kissing him until he’s the one thanking me.
“Uh,” I reply dazedly, shaking my head to focus back on him, “no. I didn’t know. With his money I sort of assumed he got a hair transplant.”
“Hmmm,” Jack buzzes thoughtfully.
“I should tell you,” I add carefully, “that Minoxidil is also a drug that I give out to some of my doctors’ offices because it treats high blood pressure. So, even though I’m not on the dermatology route anymore I still have access. I wasn’t sure if I should tell Detective Thorner that or not.”
Jack swears softly. “That’s not great news,” is all he says, though. We’ve reached our exit and he turns his blinker on, merging onto the off-ramp.
“Yeah, well, drug trafficking charges seem like nothing compared to the whole murder conviction that’s starting to feel inevitable.” I’m being flippant on purpose. Flippancy is my current defense against fear.
Jack’s head whips around so fast to look at me that the car shifts with him, hitting a rumble strip that reverberates through my body.
“It’s not inevitable,” he insists. “Besides, if things really get out of hand, remember, there’s always Antigua.”
I force a smile, though in truth his words make me feel empty. “You can’t just leave Joy,” I say, then immediately feel stupid. Maybe he wasn’t planning on coming with me on this last-ditch effort move to Antigua. “Not that you’d have to come with me,” I correct quickly. “Obviously.”
Jack shoots me an amused look. “I suppose not,” he agrees and my heart sinks to the floorboards. It was stupid of me to think that just because we shared a kiss not too long ago, he might actually come with me to start a new life in a foreign country. “Then again, I am your husband. It would be a bit weird of me not to go with you. So I guess we’d just have to bring Joy with us. I think she’d like the warmer weather.”
I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face, so I turn to look out the window before Jack can see and get any ideas about me wanting to flee to Antigua with him.
I wish I could have even a brief reprieve from this whole murder coverup so that I could sit down and process through the tangle of emotions I have when it comes to Jack Reynolds. With the way things are going right now, I’m at a loss. Every time I think I’ve gained even an iota of clarity on the matter something new crops up to confuse me. It’s like when one of my balls of yarn gets tangled up and I fix one knot only to find another down the line. Most of the time I end up having to take scissors to the yarn before I can use it again.
I don’t want to take scissors to whatever it is that is pulling me closer to Jack.
“So, uh, what exactly are we going to ask Cleo?” I ask, ready for subject change.
“We’re going to ask her how long she’d been having an affair with Ian,” Jack says matter-of-factly, like asking this question is akin to asking her if she has any plans this weekend.
“Right and she’s going to tell us that why, exactly?”
“She might not,” Jack admits. “But it’s not the answer that I’m really after. I just want to spook her by letting her know that we know about it. Spooked people mess things up. It’s the same thing the security guard tried to do to us with that photo on my dashboard—spook us into making a mistake.”
“What mistake are you expecting her to make?”
“I want to know if she had any part in moving his body,” he explains. “If she did, chances are she’ll contact anyone else who may have helped her. We need to know if Connie and that security guy were involved or even just how many other players there are in this mess.”
“And then what?” I say morosely. “Not like we’re the type of people who are willing to kill a bunch of other people just to cover our tracks.”
“True,” he admits, nabbing the manila envelope off my lap with one hand and setting it in his own. “But I’m hoping we can find a way to come to a mutual understanding.” He taps the folder. “Whoever did this tampered with a crime scene. There has to be a reason they risked doing that. Here’s the medical building,” he adds, bringing the conversation to a close as he pulls into a spot. “Alright, let’s do this.” He reaches over and gives my hand a squeeze. My heart gives a little flutter in my chest. I could live out my days in Antigua with this man.
You know, if things really came to that.
