Page 107 of Forever Gone

“Yes.”

Jessie waited.

Selena watched the ice cream soften into the squares of the waffle. “It’s hard to forget all of that, even after this long.”

“I know.”

“She acts as if she understands what she did. Maybe she does.”

“Then maybe you should try to get past it.”

Selena gave her a tired smile. “Yeah. I should. I should try.”

Jessie smiled back. “What you should do and what you want to do are often two different things.”

Outside, the diner lot lay under a deep black sky. Wind moved the branches along the roadside, and the glass reflected the booth more clearly than the world beyond it.

Selena saw Jessie across from her, blue hair bright against the dark window. Her own reflection sat beside Jessie’s, older and more guarded than the girls who had once crowded into the same booth with Connor, sharing fries and planning lives none of them would live.

For a moment, memory placed them there again.

Somewhere inside, they still were.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The video lasted nine seconds.

Connor watched it for the fourth time with the engine running and both hands locked around his phone.

The image had been recorded from somewhere high beneath the roof of Walton Morimer’s rear porch. Connor recognized the wicker chairs, the folded newspaper, and the glass of lemonade on the side table. The angle caught him in profile as he leaned forward and placed a thick envelope on the table between them.

His own voice came through clearly.

“There’s six thousand dollars here.”

Morimer’s hand moved toward the envelope.

The video ended.

No threat followed. No written demand. Only the clip and the unknown number that had sent it.

Connor opened the message details again. The number was masked through an internet service. Calling it produced a recorded notice that the line could not accept incoming calls. A trace request might lead somewhere once the phone company and provider responded, but Morimer knew how slowly those wheels turned.

Morimer had made no attempt to hide the message’s origin. The recording existed to prove that he could destroy Connor’s reputation whenever he chose.

Connor set the phone on the passenger seat and gripped the steering wheel. Anger pressed against his ribs with each breath. Morimer had recorded him inside the estate, kept the video, and waited until the right moment to reveal it.

Six thousand dollars handed to the most powerful criminal in Harlan County.

The clip stopped before Morimer explained what the money bought. It did not show Morimer’s men locating Marlene Schmidt or Connor’s desperation to find Victor’s killer. Anyone seeing those nine seconds could draw the conclusion Morimer wanted.

A sheriff paying a crime boss.

This had not been an authorized informant payment. Morimer was the target of an active federal investigation, and Connor had handed him personal cash without reporting the contact.

The county attorney would ask why Connor had entered Morimer’s property without reporting it. The FBI would ask why cash changed hands. Selena’s name might be dragged into the inquiry because she knew what he had done and concealed it. Morimer would not need to prove corruption. He only needed to make the explanation sound less believable than the image.

Connor shifted into drive.