Chelsea’s fiancé held his hand out to me. “It’s nice to meet you, Joss. I’m Bradley. Chelsea has told me so much about you.”
It seemed strange for a boy of his age to show this kind of respect, given the loose, relaxed nature of most millennials his age. But everything about Bradley was different, from his perfectly combed hair to his tight, white slacks and fitted, gray wool jacket. He oozed money and good breeding.
I accepted his soft, never worked a day in his privileged life hand in mine, and we shook. “Nice to meet you too. I hear you and Chelsea are getting married in a few weeks.”
“We were,” he clarified. “With the death of her mother, my family decided it would be best to put it off for a few months at least.”
I found his comment revealing. He and Chelsea hadn’t decided together. His family had decided for them. “Who are your parents?”
He beamed. “Hollis and Dorothy Claiborne.”
I drew a blank, which he happily filled in for me. “Governor Hollis Claiborne.”
Impressive.
“We’ve never met.”
He gave me a snarky look like, Why would you?
Chelsea fanned herself with a hand. “Man, it’s like a million degrees in here.” She removed her coat, adjusted the sleeve of her shirt that had slid off her shoulder, and we all sat down. Chelsea tapped the top of the table with her fingers like it was a piano. Whatever she’d come to say, she still seemed unsure about saying it. Not one for awkward silence, I helped things along. “What do you need to talk to me about?”
“I, umm, lied to you the other day,” she said.
I knew this already, of course. “Okay. What about?”
“When we first met, you asked me if I knew about the book my mother was writing before she died. I said I didn’t. Truth is ... I do know something about it.”
“I know.”
Her eyes widened. “How could you?”
“Before we got on the subject of your mother’s book, you didn’t have a problem looking me in the eye. Afterward, you did. Why did you feel like you couldn’t tell me what you knew?”
Chelsea rolled an elastic band off her wrist, fastening it around her hair into a ponytail. “My mom had just died. I didn’t know you. Not really. I didn’t see the point in talking about it. After I was run off the road yesterday, I feel differently. I’m willing to say anything just to feel safe again.”
“What can you tell me about the book your mom was writing?”
“It was going to be her last. This was one reason why she didn’t tell anyone she was writing it. And it’s just ... I’ve had time to think about it the last few days. I’m worried she was killed because someone found out what she wrote in it.”
“Who else knew about the book?”
“No one, except me, and my dad probably knows now too. That’s why we were fighting last night. He has her laptop, and he won’t give it to me.”
“How do you know he has it?” I asked. “Did he admit it to you?”
She shook her head. “It was in the top drawer of my mom’s desk. A drawer she always kept locked. I was walking by the desk last night and noticed the metal hole the key goes into looked funny. It was bent, like someone jammed a knife inside the hole and broke it. I ran my finger over the hole, and the drawer pulled right open. The laptop wasn’t there.”
“Did you ask your dad if he had it?”
She nodded. “He swore he didn’t have it. He’s lying. I know he does.”
“Is that why you trashed your mom’s house after he left, to find the laptop?”
She jerked her head back. “Trashed the house? What are you talking about?”
“Your father said when he returned home this morning, it was a disaster. Someone broke in last night. Your father has been trying to find you. He seems genuinely worried.”
Chelsea sprung from the chair. “Are you kidding? Someone broke into my mother’s house?! When? Did they take anything? Do the police know about it?!”
“I’m not sure. If it wasn’t you and it wasn’t your father—”
“How could it be me? I wasn’t there.” She looked at the officer. “Ask the police guy. He’ll tell you.”
The officer nodded.
“When did you leave the house?” I asked.
“Last night. I thought after my dad cooled off, he’d come back, try to talk to me again. I couldn’t go another round with him. So I left, went to Bradley’s parents’ house. I didn’t leave there until this morning, and I came straight here to see you. I haven’t been home since I left last night.”
“It’s true,” Bradley said. “She got to my house around eight.”
Chelsea grabbed Bradley’s hand, walked to the door. “I ... I can’t be here right now. I have to go.”
“Hang on, Chelsea,” I said. “Give me one minute, okay? I understand you’re shook up, but maybe if you give me more information, the two of us can figure out who broke into your house and why.”
She fidgeted with the key in her hand, sliding her thumb up and down like a nervous tic. “It’s just ... the thought of someone in my mother’s house ... all of this ... it’s so hard. I’m not even safe in my own house anymore.”
Sensing she was about to cry, Bradley squeezed her hand. “It’s all right, babe. We’ll go back to the house, pack some bags, and you can stay with me until we’re married. My mom has already offered for you to stay with us as long as you want. Say what you came here to say.”
Chelsea sighed, looked at me. “Okay, fine. Just ... let’s hurry.”
I picked the black planner off the table, held it out to her. “You left this on the table.”
“Oh, right. I meant to leave it. I brought it here to give to you. Well, loan to you.”
I opened the planner, flipped through it.
“That’s my mom’s planner,” Chelsea said.
“Where did you get it?” I asked.
“It was in my mom’s desk.”
“Wouldn’t the police have taken it when they searched the house?”
She nodded. “After what happened to my mom, I wanted to look through it first. I gave it to Bradley, and he kept it at his house until now.”
“You should have turned it in,” I said.
“I am kinda, now. I’m giving it to you.”
“I’m not the police. Have you looked through it?”
She nodded. “I went through her appointments last night, but I can’t make heads or tails of anything. I was hoping you could take a look. Maybe you’ll see something different.”
“Absolutely, but I need to be honest. After I look at it, I want to hand it over to the police so they can look at it as well.”
“I brought it to you because I don’t want it given to them. They still have the purse she was carrying the night she died. They also took other things from her car. I have no idea when I’ll get any of it back. My dad asked, and they told him they didn’t know either.”
“Trust me, giving them the planner is the right thing to do, Chelsea. We’re all trying to accomplish the same thing here.”
She frowned. “Whatever. I guess.”
“I’ll go through it first just to see if anything stands out.”
She opened the hotel room door, looked back. “Thank you. Will you tell me if you find anything?”
I nodded. “One last question before you leave. You never said whether you know the subject of your mother’s last book. Do you know? Did she tell you?”
“She didn’t, but I was in her office one day when she was writing. I was at her desk talking to her, and I recognized a name she’d typed.”
“What name?”
Her answer was shocking and unexpected, spinning me in a whole new direction.
Elias Pratt.