I texted Liz, but not before Jill's message came through when I set foot on the sidewalk outside town hall.
Head back to the center, the deputy sent. Could use the backup.
Liz get in touch? I climbed into the front seat of my car as Jill responded.
Yup, she sent. Bring her.
Okay then. A quick drive down the block carried me to the steps to the sheriff's office where Liz stood waiting, her dark sunglasses making her look even more the special agent. She waved while she descended the stairs, climbing into the passenger's seat without a word. Nope, those she saved for after I pulled away, taking a right at the stop sign on the corner, heading out to the edge of town and the drive up the mountain while she spoke.
“That cousin of yours,” she said, so droll I glanced sideways with a start, the tight line of her normally full lips making me grimace. “He's quite the character.”
She was clearly holding back. Hopefully not for my benefit. Surely Crew had told her there was no love lost between me and Robert. “Had a bit of a conversation with the waste of space and clean oxygen, did you?”
Liz grinned suddenly, though there was little joy in it, her eyes hidden behind the aviators across her gaze though I could guess I'd see annoyance there.
“He's still questioning Sarah Shard,” she said. “Been at it for two hours. The girl is exhausted.” A little quiver of worry for Pamela's niece did a dance through my tummy while Liz stared out the passenger window, right arm resting on the door. “Useless, but at least he’s distracted. According to Turner that's a good thing?” Her head turned, dark lenses focused on me, that last what should be a statement rising in tone at the end into a question.
So they had discussed Reading. Likely at length. Which made me wonder how much he’d told her about me. Not that it mattered at the moment. Seriously, was I making this about Fiona Fleming? Naturally. Despite the fact Liz clearly made the choice to like me and include me, I still caught myself worrying in faint anxiety what she thought of me.
Silly. Grow up, kid.
“Definitely a good thing.” I felt the urge to fall into whiny complaint about Robert bite at the edges of my mood and chose otherwise. Surely someone as professional as Liz didn’t want to spend the fifteen minute drive to the center listening to me natter on about my vile cousin. Instead, I filled her in on what I knew of the case while she listened silently, still as stone. She nodded a few times, her head turning just a bit as she seemed to identify the moment I edited out why I was in the stable—my excuse I ducked in to avoid security didn’t pass her scrutiny and nor should it have, considering how long she'd been picking out people's lies and omissions thanks to her job—but she didn’t ask any questions so I hurried on, hating that I felt guilty for not telling her all the truth.
I comforted myself in the fact I intended to tell Crew just as soon as he got back. Because he needed to know. As for Liz, I was sure what happened to Melina Canty had nothing at all to do with the mysterious conversation between Robert and who I was positive was Marie Patterson.
Okay, at least 99% sure.
When we pulled into the parking lot at the center, my little sedan settling beside Jill’s cruiser, Liz paused while I unbuckled my seat belt and tossed my keys into the open mouth of my big purse. I waited as she seemed to absorb what I'd told her, about the fight I'd witnessed—both of them, if the one between Melina and Gretchen with Charlie watching had significance—about Sarah's clear animosity toward the dead woman, Violet’s horrible demeanor, Jimmy's apparent attraction to the young woman in custody, and the aggravated conversation between Melina and Alphonse Brunbaugh.
She slowly unhooked her own belt before turning to me, sliding her glasses off so her dark brown eyes met mine, level and steady an instant before she laughed. Out loud. Startling me so much I grinned back.
“I knew about you, of course,” she said. “Turner told me a lot, especially at first. How you just kind of,” she raised her eyebrows at me, wiggling them, “fall into trouble. Seem to be at the wrong place at the right time. Or is that the right place at the wrong time?” She snorted. “Body magnet, he calls you.” Lovely. Wasn't sure that was the term of endearment I'd been hoping for from the man I was marrying. “Well, used to,” she corrected herself, though it didn't seem to be out of need to soothe my feelings so I accepted her altered comment and forgave Crew who, technically, didn't need to be forgiven because he was right, wasn't he? “Either you have the worst freaking luck of anyone I've ever encountered,” Liz finished, winking, “or you're made for this job, Fee.” She pushed her glasses back into place, the faint scent of whatever she used to wash her hair or her clothes wafting toward me as her suit-coat rustled, the open jacket exposing the gun at her waist a moment before she opened the door. “I'm going to guess both.”
I followed her out of the car, wishing she was wrong, knowing she was likely right. I was exactly where I was supposed to be, doing exactly what I was meant to be doing and, as I crossed to the main gate at Liz's side, noting she paused her step enough so we could walk in stride instead of pushing on ahead of me like I expected her to (another reason to really, really like and respect her) I realized the actual reason I'd never felt exactly fulfilled in New York. Or anywhere outside Reading.
Home was where the murder was.
Jill was waiting for us, her own sunglasses casting mirrored reflections of us, a soft tip of the brim of her deputy's hat greeted by a similar and almost universal nod of recognition from Liz that screamed law enforcement solidarity. As for me, the little wave I offered the deputy felt like I was doing my best to fit in with the cool kids and only managed to make it to awkward but neither of the women seemed to care.
Bless them. I suddenly felt less like an outsider and actually like this might be fun. Right, because someone else's death was fun, Fee.
Jill handed me a badge with a grin, though when I raised my eyebrows at her as I took it, she shook her head with a soft laugh.
“You have to qualify for a gun,” she said.
Well, crappy. But all good. “Thanks, Jill.”
She slipped a sheet of paper out of the inside pocket of her dark green jacket, Liz helping herself while the deputy went on. “Judge Grant was kind enough to give us a court order allowing you on the property for the course of the investigation,” she said. “Pattersons be damned.” As far as I knew the founding family had everyone in town aside from those closest to me in their pocketbooks. How had Jill managed it? “Hugh just delivered it.” Ah, so she hadn’t. Jill seemed a bit perplexed by the personal delivery of the paperwork from Olivia's assistant, and I agreed with her. The mayor had made sure I had what I needed to pretend I was a real police officer? Even after she'd seemed to write me off as a supporter?
What was Olivia really up to?
That question would have to wait. Liz handed the page back to Jill, hands tucking back her jacket, fingers splayed on her waist as she cocked one hip and addressed us both. “Thanks for letting me in on this, deputy.” Jill's startled smile and nod told me she wasn't expecting that kind of respect from the agent, though I wasn't surprised by it, not now. Still, raising estimations of herself? Check. “I know Crew asked you to, but it means a lot having your support.”
“My pleasure,” Jill murmured. “You'll be taking lead, Agent Michaud?”
Liz shook her head, silken ponytail swinging as she looked away, lips pursed. “Crew speaks highly of your talents,” she said. “I'm happy to follow you, Wagner. Besides, I'm a newcomer here. Might be prudent to have you continue as lead with the two of us backing you up.”
Jill's chest swelled just a bit. “Roger that.”
I'd been witness to male egos, both bolstering and knocking each other down, but I'd never witnessed this kind of powerful women in law enforcement booster club show before. It almost made me emotional.
My phone rang, interrupting, and I turned aside while the amazing women I admired even more now bent their heads and let me have a private moment with my fiancé.
“Sweetheart,” he said, sounding tired. “Are you okay?”
“I'm fine,” I said, suddenly worried. Why was he tired? Where had he gone? His assurance when I dropped him at the airport that he was out of town a day or two was an easy sell when I was sucked into wedding bitterness. Not like me at all to resist demanding specifics. While he'd kept secrets from me in the past, I'd thought such need to hide what he was doing was long gone. Mind you, I hadn't pushed, but the tone of his voice, the way he sounded anxious but distracted, told me whatever he was up to, it was time to find out what he was keeping from me.
I was patient, but only to a point. Okay, stop laughing.
“I'm sorry I wasn't there for you.” His distress grew, the chatter of people in the background of wherever he'd found himself loud enough I made out a few voices I didn't recognize. “Especially today of all days.” The wedding, yeah. “I hope you know I had no choice.”
“Are you going to tell me what's going on?” I did my best to keep my tone level and quiet, squashing any judgments or leaps to conclusions that might upset him. Because he really sounded like he was wrung out. And I was doing my best to learn to put him on my priority list for understanding and benefit of the doubt so I didn't end up divorced shortly after we got married. Nice of me, right?
He hesitated then sighed. “It's personal, old family stuff. I'll tell you everything when I get back.” I wanted to ask for more and bit my tongue. He said he'd tell me. And I knew perfectly well despite the fact he loved me he still struggled with the loss of Michelle, his former wife. Did this have something to do with her death? It had happened years ago, so surely not. “I'm in California,” he said then, confirming he was a lot further away than he'd led me to believe. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you but when I got the call, I left without thinking.” So I wasn't the only one who had to learn to make the other a priority. Fair enough. That actually made me feel better. “I keep forgetting I'm not alone anymore.”
Okay, so that last statement? Spoken with a soft hitch at the end like he was fighting tears? Triggered mine and made me choke up, forgive him anything, want to reach through the cell phone and hug him so hard.
“You do what you have to,” I said, firm and loving and warm, “and I'll be here when you're done. I love you, Crew. Whatever it is, whatever you need, I'm here.”
It took him a long time to respond and his voice still shook with emotion when he finally did. “I love you too, Fee. I'm grateful every day for you. For us.” He swallowed audibly, coughed softly to clear what had to be tension in his own throat while I clutched the phone tightly to my ear, other hand covering my heart because it was all I had at the moment.
“I'm going to be a bit longer than I thought,” he said then. “A few more days. Liz is with you?” Hope in that question.
“She's with Jill right now,” I said, turning back to find the two watching me, though they kept their distance and neither looked impatient. “We're digging into the case now.” I crossed to them, lowering the phone and tapping the small icon that would broadcast his voice. “You're on speaker, Crew.”
“Hey, Turner,” Liz spoke up first. “Just like you to slack off when there's a murder to solve.” Her tone didn't match her words and from the faint sorrow in her voice I knew she knew exactly where he was and why. Chest clench. I forced the instinctual reaction to release as Crew spoke.
“Don't get comfortable, Michaud,” he said. “Jill, you and Fee make sure she's made most unwelcome, you hear?” He was forcing joviality but it worked, Liz grinning, Jill snorting a laugh.
“Yes, sir,” she said. “We've got it handled.”
“I just bet.” He sighed. “Tread lightly, but don't hesitate to dig if you're being stonewalled. The Pattersons might think they own Reading, but the victim deserves justice.”
“I'll call you later,” I said. “Okay?”
“I'm on a three hour time difference,” he said. “Tonight?” I didn't get to respond. “Good luck with the case. Fee, can I talk to you privately again, please?” I took him off speaker, eyes locked on Liz as he spoke again. “Tell Michaud about the treasure, Fee.”
Um, what? Before I could ask him why he thought that was such a good idea, someone spoke to him, the interruption muffled but audible.
“I have to go, sweetheart,” he said. “I love you. Be safe.” He hesitated before sighing. “Please, be careful.” And then, he was gone.
***