27

Emily bolted home and paced around the house for about an hour, trying to clear her thoughts, but was interrupted when a flower delivery van pulled up. She went outside to meet the driver. He handed her a vase of two dozen long-stemmed white lilies and white roses. Her favorite. The card simply read: You’re always on my mind. Love, Brandon.

She thanked the driver and took them inside. They overwhelmed the kitchen table but made the room look light and cheery. She wished her spirit felt the same.

Emily looked at the date on the delivery card. November nineteenth. It had been two months since her engagement day. Immediately her thoughts drifted to Chicago.

Chicago. Sweet home Chicago. She smiled as the line from the blues song drifted through her mind.

She texted Brandon a quick thank-you and a picture of the flowers. They were lovely, and had come at just the time she needed a pick-me-up. Here was proof that there was still a lot of beauty to be had in the world. Here was proof that he still cared for her. Here was a glimmer of hope that things could be worked out.

Emily looked down at her duds. She had worn the same pair of jeans since she’d gotten to Freeport. She could no longer put off a trip to Chicago to pick up her things. She needed sweaters and her winter jacket. She was also missing other sundries and personal items she had left behind in her rush to Freeport.

Yes, things were heating up with the Parkman case, but there would be no better time. Besides, a trip to Chicago to leave all this behind her for thirty-six hours might provide some clarity and perspective as she sorted through everything Jo had told her.

Emily texted Brandon. Heading for Chicago shortly. Will you be at the house?

Technically it was a brownstone. A remodeled, four-story, single-family home that Brandon had bought without her after they’d gotten engaged. A source of irritation. Was it forgivable? Sure. Was it the right way to start a life together? Red flag.

It was only seconds before he texted back.

Be at hospital til 6. Key code 569010. Dinner?

Sure. What time?

Eight. My treat.

Sounds good.

R u spending night?

Emily thought about it a second. It would beat having to find an overpriced hotel room and paying through the nose for parking. She could sleep on the couch. Or the guest room. She didn’t want things to be weird or give Brandon the wrong impression.

Yes. She texted back. And left it at that.

*   *   *

Thirty minutes later Emily locked the house and jumped into her car with an overnight bag. She let out a huge sigh of relief as she pulled out of the driveway. No sooner was she a mile past city limits than she heard a police siren behind her. She checked her rearview mirror. The blue and reds strobed and the cop was flashing his lights at her. She looked at her speed. She was actually under the limit by a couple of miles per hour. Was there smoke coming from her vehicle or something? Wait. Nick had done this to her before, when she’d returned to Freeport late on the night of her father’s first heart attack. Emily sighed at the inconvenience and pulled over, unbuckled her belt, and jumped out of the car as Nick approached.

“Hey, what are you doing? You’re supposed to stay put,” Nick said.

“No, what are you doing? I wasn’t disobeying any traffic laws. There’s no reason you should be pulling me over,” she snapped back.

“I knew you wouldn’t pick up any of my calls,” he said.

“So you followed me?”

“Not exactly. I went to your house and your car was gone. I just started driving toward town and guess I got lucky.”

“What do you want?”

“Just to talk. Paul told me about your little visit.”

“Yeah. And now I know why you shut me down when I asked you and Ross about the sex video.” She folded her arms across her chest and stared him down. Emily was not in the mood to have this talk right now, but here it was. “What else are you hiding?”

“Em, I can’t always share every detail of a case with you.”

“Were Ross and James colluding to sell Sandi’s sex tape?”

“That’s an odd reach.”

“Not if James was pimping Sandi and Ross was in on it.”

“Also a big stretch.”

“And are you sure Sandi didn’t come over to your house? It’s not adding up, Nick. Tiffani was gone at a friend’s. James claims he was home alone. And so were you. Maybe James and Sandi came over. Maybe you and James got into a fight and Sandi accidentally got in the middle? Maybe one of you killed Sandi?”

“What? Whoa!” Nick shuffled his feet on the gravel in protest.

“Is that the secret of the pack you’re hiding?”

“Em. Hold on. Where is this coming from?”

“I’m not dumb, Nick. None of the stories are connecting.”

“So you drew some conclusion that I accidentally murdered Sandi with James?”

“You. Paul. Ross. You’re all so cavalier and covert.” She was aware from Nick’s reaction that her flushed face and bulging eyes were conveying the depth of her distress.

Nick dropped his tone and held her gaze. “I want you to know I that I was never a part of the pack.”

“Yes, you were.”

“Not like that. We were in sports together. But I never participated in the stuff they did.”

“But you did. By association,” stammered Emily.

“I’m not going to argue semantics. I did not kill Sandi. And I am going to make this right. I’m going to do everything in my power to stand up for Sandi and find out who killed her.”

“Great. Good. I hope so, Nick. I really do. But how on earth do you explain what happened before that?”

“I was … it was … just a weird high school guy thing.”

“Boys will be boys?” she said with a sneer.

Nick’s eyes diverted from hers, and that’s all she needed to know.

Nick sighed, and the color drained from his face. “Ten years this side of it, I get that kind of defense doesn’t really hold up.”

“You knew. Even if you didn’t participate. You knew,” she said.

Sins of omission. Pack or no pack. He had kept silent. He had kept their secrets. In that way, he had been a part of it. Emily didn’t know what to say to excuse it or make him feel better. She didn’t want him to feel better. Their increasingly depraved behavior had led to Sandi’s murder. It didn’t get any worse than that.

“I think you better find an attorney and reconsider that badge,” said Emily, turning to head back to her car.

“Running away again without telling me?” Nick’s tone held venom.

Emily whipped around. “I still have a life in Chicago.”

“If you’re going back to Brandon, the least you could do is have the decency to tell me.” Nick’s words stung again.

Emily would not dignify this comment with a response. At least Brandon, from the moment she had met him, had always been a man of the highest integrity. That she could count on.