I’m at my desk Friday morning, plowing my way through a pile of paperwork, when my sister walks in. She has two Starbucks cups and an expression like the one she’d get as a kid after sneaking a handful of gingersnaps from our mom’s cookie jar.
“Don’t tell,” Kim says, handing me one of the cups as she slips into the chair across from me. “Mom’s watching Ainslie because I was supposed to have a dentist appointment, but they canceled on me at the last minute and I didn’t tell mom because I desperately wanted an hour to myself and does that make me a bad mother?”
Kim’s the best mom I know—outside our own, of course—so I’m pretty sure that’s a rhetorical question.
“You’re a great mother,” I assure her. “And also a fantastic sister for bringing me coffee. How’d you know I’d need it?”
“Lucky guess,” she says. “And also I saw the paper this morning. That Zonski guy’s lawyers officially filed the motion for retrial.”
I frown and take a sip of the coffee. It’s scalding and bitter and exactly what I need right now. “Yeah. I’ll have to testify again if he gets it. So will the sister, the girl who survived.”
It was one of the worst cases I ever worked. An angry sixteen-year-old, blitzed out of his mind on meth and booze and whatever the hell else he’d ingested, drove his eight-year-old twin siblings home from school. Only they never made it to the house. He went off a cliff and into a tree, killing the brother instantly, and somehow managing to survive the crash himself. God bless airbags. Or not. The surviving sister remembered her brother’s words before he plunged them over that cliff.
“It’s time to fucking die,” he’d screamed. “You assholes are coming with me.”
Hearing that poor girl tell the story in her shaky, tear-filled voice literally brought me to my knees, and I’m mad as hell it’s coming up again.
Bree must’ve seen the paper, too, since she called this morning to ask about it.
“That must be so gut-wrenching,” she said after I filled her in on the history of the case. “I’m sorry you’re having to go through this. I wish I could help.”
“I’m not worried about me,” I told her. “It’s the family—the fact that they’ll have to live through it all over again. That’s not the kind of thing people just move past, you know? The death of a kid, it’s the worst kind of tragedy a family can face.”
“I’m sure it’s hard for the police, too,” she said. “For you.”
“Yeah,” I admitted. “I still see those three kids’ faces in my dreams. Nightmares, really. It changes you, being so close to a case like that.”
I’ve never shared that with anyone before. Bree must’ve heard the emotion in my voice, because I could swear I hear tears in hers, too. “Austin, I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “So, so, so sorry.”
“Thanks,” I told her. “I sure lov—loved spending time with you the other night.”
I almost said it. So damn close to telling her I love her, that I’ve fallen head over heels for her. I held off then, but maybe I won’t tonight. It’s Friday, so we’re getting together at my place for dinner. Bree agreed to spend the night.
“Earth to Austin!” My sister waves a hand in front of my face, bringing me back to the present. “Helllllooo. Anyone home?”
“Very funny.” I take a sip of my coffee. “Thanks again for this.”
“What were you daydreaming about? You got this goofy look on your face.”
“Nothing.”
Kim grins, knowing damn well there’s a story here. “Is it Bree?” She sips her coffee, looking positively gleeful. “Come on, indulge an old married lady. I want to hear about your girlfriend.”
I don’t correct her, even though I’m not positive Bree’s my girlfriend. But what else do you call someone you’re sleeping with and crazy about when you’re pretty sure she feels the same?
“We’re taking it slow,” I say noncommittally. “But I’m hopeful.”
Kim makes a face. “See, now why can’t Meredith do that? She’s been dating Icky Eddie for weeks and they’re already talking about moving in together.”
That jolts me out of my own little dream world. “Meredith and Eddie?” I frown. “Seriously?”
Kim groans “Yep. She thinks he’s going to propose.
Crap, that reminds me. “I’ve been meaning to do a background check on Eddie. What’s his last name?” I pivot to grab my notepad, flipping the cover to reveal a blank page.
“Dimwit,” she says. “Or maybe it’s Dewit.”
I click my pen and scribble the name, along with a couple alternate spellings. Might as well check for aliases, too. “I’ll do it at lunchtime.”
“Why not now? I want to see.”
“The program I use for background checks is strictly confidential,” I tell her. “I’ll let you know if I find anything interesting.”
“Fine.” She makes a face and slumps back in her chair. “Do we need to do one for Bree?”
“What?”
She shrugs and sips her coffee. “Between you and Dad, every guy who’s ever looked twice at us has gone through a background check. Just wondering who’s doing it for you.”
“Don’t be dumb.” I’m dimly aware that I sound like a five-year-old version of myself when Kim would tease me about wetting the bed. “Bree’s about as squeaky clean as they come.”
Kim shrugs again, not looking particularly concerned. I get that she’s desperate for excitement, so I’m not taking her suggestion personally. “Remember that one guy—the accountant Meredith brought home four years ago? Brent or Brett or—”
“Britt,” I mutter. “Yeah. We all thought he was finally going to be Meredith’s steady guy.”
“He might have been, if he hadn’t forgotten to mention he had a wife in Florida.”
“Minor detail.” I still hate the guy. “I’m pretty confident Bree doesn’t have a husband. Or a wife,” I add before my sister can interject.
Still, would it hurt to check?
Stop. That’s silly, and besides…I trust Bree.
My sister shrugs and takes another sip of coffee. “Suit yourself,” she says. “All I’m saying is that you have the resources at your fingertips. Might as well put them to use.”
“I’ll think about it,” I say, mostly so we can end this conversation. “I’ll do Bree after I do Eddie, if only so I can have the satisfaction of telling you you’re an idiot.”
She laughs. “Don’t give me that look. I love Bree. Hell, if I didn’t have a great husband and if I batted for the other team, I’d totally steal her away from you. Even if she’s secretly a serial killer.” My sister glances at her watch and stands up. “I should get back. Mom’s expecting me at noon, and I’ll probably have to come clean about the dentist appointment getting cancelled.”
“I doubt she’ll mind watching Ainslie again,” I tell her. “Hell, book eight more dentist appointments. Mom loves spoiling her.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
I get to my feet and move around the desk to give her a hug. “Thanks again for the coffee.
“No problem. And congratulations.”
“For what?”
“For Bree.” She pulls back from the hug and smiles at me, and there’s a strange glow of sisterly pride in her eyes. Something that suggests I’m about to get some words of wisdom. “You know I’m just kidding about the criminal thing. I think she’s perfect for you. I’m so glad the two of you are seeing each other.”
“Thanks.” My big, dumb heart throbs in my chest. “Tell Brian hi for me. And I’ll text him about elk hunting.”
“Sounds good.”
She waves as she sashays out the door. I watch her until she skips around the corner then move back to my desk. Settling back into my chair, I stare at my notepad where I’ve written the variations of Eddie’s name.
Edward Dimwit. Eddie Dewit. Edward Dewit.
I cue up my computer and toggle to the page where I do background checks, but it’s not Eddie’s name I type.
Bree Bracelyn.
Wait, no.
Breeann Bracelyn.
A twinge of guilt pinches the center of my chest, and I almost delete the words.
But there’s nothing to worry about, so I hit enter.
Then I sit back and watch the words scroll.