Page 18 of Nowhere Good

The person on the other end made a breathy noise. Feminine.

“Hello?”

“Um—it’s Claire.”

He nearly stopped breathing. “Claire, are you all right?”

“I’m fine, but—” She inhaled sharply. “Can we meet somewhere? Alone? I need to show you something.”

Seth’s car grumbled as he idled in the isolated loading bay behind the grocery store. He’d changed back into slacks and a button-up, rolled up enough to let his forearms breathe, but never let his cubital fossa slip. He bounced his leg, anxious, and checked his rearview mirror. The tarmac behind him was dotted by puddles that gleamed like pools of oil in the drizzly night.

Finally, movement along the side of the building. He expected headlights, a car, but a bicycle appeared with Claire on it, no helmet. He eased out of his vehicle, into the humid night. She hopped off her bike in one smooth motion, booted the kickstand, and took a few tentative steps towards him. Her hair was tied back, her green eyes bleary. Pretty, like she always seemed to be. They met under the glow of a floodlight.

“Hey, I thought you were driving,” he said. “I could’ve picked you up.”

“I’m not a driver.” She shrugged, hiding her palms in the sleeves of her blue hoodie. “I’ve always biked around town.”

It worried him, but if he wanted her on his side, he needed to not piss her off with a lecture. Right now, they had no evidence to suggest Eliza’s killer would kill again.

“You wanted to show me something?” he asked.

Claire stared at him, apprehension all over her face. “Look, if I tell you this, it can’t be linked back to me. I need you to promise you won’t tell anyone, not even the other cops. Okay?”

He paused, taking in her request. “Well, that depends on what it is.”

But Claire’s posture remained firm. “No. You have to promise no one will find out I came to you. Tell them it came from a tip line or something. Promise me, or I walk right now.”

As frustrating as it was, he understood where she was coming from. Being labeled as a rat could put a target on someone’s back.

“Where’s all this fire when you’re with Dillon? You don’t seem to have a problem telling me off.”

Claire puffed up. “I told you earlier, you don’t know me. I tell Dillon off all the time.”

“But you still stay.” And still clean up his messes, but he didn’t let that part slip.

The flare of her nostril didn’t go past him. “Did you meet with me just to judge my relationship some more?”

“You’re right.” He raised his hands in peace. “I’m sorry. I’ll keep it quiet. You have my word.”

She sucked in a breath. “Earlier, at the bar, Dillon was there. He didn’t wanna talk to you, and I don’t know why.”

“Ah, so your father lied to me.”

Panic struck her face. “Yeah, but you can’t tell him I told you. My dad wants to protect Dillon. He’s real serious about family.”

“But you’re his daughter. Dillon isn’t even married to you. And protect him from what?”

“I don’t know, but that’s not all I lied about. It was about the dime bag. I thought, maybe I had seen it before, but I wasn’t a hundred percent sure.” Shaking, she took out her phone and unlocked it, then flashed him a photo.

There, lying on the fabric of a car seat, was an empty dime bag with a red stripe across the top. The exact same found in Eliza’s pocket.

“I found this in his car tonight, stuffed between the cushions,” Claire said. But before Seth could process it, she tucked her phone to her chest.

He felt a rush of vindication. He knew Dillon was bullshitting him.

“Why do you think he had that?” he asked. “Is he a user?”

“No, Dillon doesn’t shoot up. Trust me, he’s terrified of needles. But I think… maybe he could sell it. And maybe…”