Even though Ryan and I were in close contact at work each day, I made my feelings clear when I blatantly ignored him outside any conversation about work. My saving grace was when Dad assigned Ryan more of his “Bob Vila” tasks. I wondered if my attitude had something to do with it.
I went back and forth on what had happened between Ryan and me. I couldn’t believe I’d been used like that. I recalled all of our conversations, looking for deeper meaning, searching for the bits of information that he was looking for. For what? Did he suspect me too? Why was he so interested in the case after we’d already become friends? I hated myself for opening up. It felt like he’d poured salt on the wound that Kat had ripped into my body. Why was it so hard to trust anyone? Why did I always make that mistake?
I focused on my work tasks, went home on time, not stopping for coffee. That was probably the worst part. Ryan was ruining my summer routine, but I didn’t want to get the chance to see him outside of work. I floated through my own life. I supposed I should have thanked him. It was practice for how I would ghost through the hallways at school in the fall. I’d put my head down and get through it. Unless you were the new kid in school, no one tried to make new friends in senior year of high school. Everyone already knew your personality and past mistakes. And I had several of those against me.
I managed to avoid Ryan for several days until Thursday afternoon, when he cornered me in the kitchen, where I was filling the bread bin with fresh rolls for the dinner crowd. There were several other staff members nearby, so I couldn’t make a scene. I suspected that was why he did it.
“Can we talk?” he said.
I threw a piece of bread a little too hard into the bin. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“On what you want to talk about.”
He lowered his voice. “You know what I want to talk about.”
“If it has to do with something at the inn, I’ll happily oblige. If not, go away.”
He touched my shoulder and I flinched, ducking away from his touch.
“How many times can I say I’m sorry?”
“Until it actually means something.” I threw another roll into the bin, it was fresh enough that it split. I grumbled and took the roll out, placing it on the counter. Marco would be furious if a customer received one in that condition.
He sighed. “If I could take it all back, I would. I wouldn’t have gone to the party. I wouldn’t have applied here. The case file was something I could fall back on if you’d changed so much that you wouldn’t want anything to do with me.”
“Why do you care so much, anyway? Why can’t you let your brother do his job?”
He gnawed on his lip. “My dad is a retired detective. He wasn’t as closed off and secretive as Phil. Dad used to discuss cases with me when he was working. It was his version of bonding. And I supposed he wanted me to follow in his footsteps. Now it’s hard-wired in me. I have an annoying habit of sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong. And this time I feel awful about it. I’ll do anything to make it up to you. Anything. Name it.”
As much as I wanted to continue to be furious at Ryan, he’d laid it all on the table for me. Granted, he waited until I found out, but now I had the upper hand. How could I use that to my advantage? I had been up most nights thinking about what I’d said to Ryan for him to understand more about that case. My own curiosity filled me. And I knew exactly how he could make it up to me.
“Two things. First, no more lies,” I said.
He exhaled sharply. “I know. I promise.”
“And I want in.”
He blinked. “In what?”
I didn’t like the idea of Joe being murdered. It gave me the creeps but also shed light on the feeling I had in the back of my mind that Joe was too selfish to mess up badly enough to get himself killed. And, if I could bring him justice, I would. “I want to help you with your side investigation.”
He glanced over my shoulder, then his eyes locked with mine. “Cara, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why was it okay for you to spy on me, then?”
“Like I said, it started off that way. I don’t want you to get involved if there’s some wacko murderer out there.”
I waved a hand at him. “If Joe was murdered, it wasn’t by a wacko. Joe could rub people the wrong way, especially those who supplied him.” I wasn’t sure if I should share what I knew, but I had to give Ryan the same no-lies courtesy that I expected from him. “He had money, plenty of it. He always tried to get a deal, sometimes ridiculous deals that pissed his suppliers off. This might have been the last straw for someone, or it was an accident, plain and simple.”
“I don’t know, Cara.”
“That’s the only way I’ll forgive you,” I said. It was childish but I had some idea it would work. Ryan was desperate to make up for what he did, and I was determined to be a part of it. There wasn’t any harm in investigating as long as we stayed out of his brother’s way. And there were a lot of holes in his murder theory. It had to be an accident, and I needed Devereaux off my back so I could move on.
“Okay,” he said.
“Okay?”
“Yes.” He scratched his chin. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
I’d tried to put Joe out of my mind since his death, but he and Kat seemed to continuously weave their way into my life. There was no reason I shouldn’t do the same. Maybe it would be enough of a distraction to keep my mind from thinking about the disastrous school year to come.
“Absolutely,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I do have some information.”
“Okay.”
“I think it might help with the marker issue.”
Ryan cocked his head. His eyes sparkled. I knew it wasn’t the reflection of the light over the stainless-steel appliances. This was the Ryan who had interviewed me without my suspicion. Maybe a future law-enforcement career wasn’t too far off for him. “What do you mean?”
There were too many people in the kitchen to have that discussion. “Let’s meet tonight.”
During the school year, Mom and Dad were insistent on family dinner time without distractions. The summer was more relaxed since Dad had longer office hours with the influx of guests, and Mom never complained about making something easy on the grill for dinner. It was the perfect setup for me to meet Ryan without having to make too many excuses for why I missed dinner with them. Talking too much about it at work interfered with the assigned tasks and I feared anyone overhearing us.
“Where are you going tonight?” Mom said from her room across the hall.
I stared at my desk; my hand rested on the wood surface. “I’m meeting up with Ryan at Rizzo’s.” After Kat had aired my dirty laundry in front of Ryan, I didn’t fear going to the places I loved anymore, even though there was a distinct possibility that I would be spotted. There wasn’t anything going on with Ryan and, if she didn’t believe me, it was her own fault.
“Have fun, and don’t be home too late,” she said, then headed for the bathroom.
I waited to hear the shower turn on before I opened the desk drawer, my stomach fluttering with thousands of butterflies. My fingers hovered over the piece of paper. The words concealed in the folds accused me of something. Of what? I hoped with Ryan and my combined brain power we could figure it out.
That’s what I told Ryan after we placed our order for a large pepperoni pizza. The packed restaurant offered the noise level we needed. There was no way I was going back to his house again after the warning Devereaux had given me. I wasn’t a glutton for punishment. Who knew if he’d charge me with trespassing? I didn’t need any extra attention. Especially since I was sticking my nose where it didn’t belong.
“What does it mean?” he asked, opening his straw and popping it into his glass.
“It couldn’t be a suicide note, right?”
“Joe took his life for you? That doesn’t make sense.”
“I know.” I was relieved I could talk to someone about my own theories. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I shouldn’t have taken this.”
“You weren’t thinking,” he said, taking a sip of his soda. “Finding someone you cared about like that. No one would be in their right mind.”
My eyes welled with tears.
Ryan leaned close to the table. “Cara, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
If he only knew. I had more guilt in my body than sadness. I blotted my face with a napkin; the rough texture scraped across my skin like sandpaper.
“I’m fine. I wish I never picked it up. I wish I could put it back.”
He shook his head. “Your fingerprints are all over it. We couldn’t bring it back, anyway. And it would only prove you were hiding something.”
At least we were on the same page about that. Little did Ryan know I already had a bigger target on me after the other night after Devereaux caught me at his house.
“What do you suggest we do?” I asked.
“I’ve been through the file inside and out and we’re dry on new information. It’s all speculation at this point.”
“So we’re at a dead end?” That couldn’t be. Ryan and I just started with the case; it couldn’t be over that quickly. Had he tricked me into forgiving him?
“Not exactly,” he said. “There’s someone who knew him better than anyone.”
“Kat?”
“No, you.”
“I don’t know anything else.”
Ryan leaned against the table, his eyes fixed on mine. “Joe hid a drug habit from his family. But not from you. Can you think of anything else he was hiding? It might give us more clues.”
I sat back in the booth and considered what I knew. The drug habit was exposed to everyone when he overdosed. Kat and the girls knew, and so did most of his friends. I considered his other less-than-legal habits.
“Gambling,” I said slowly. “He did online poker. The illegal kind.”
“Did he owe someone money? Do you know his account name?”
“Yes, but not the password.”
He leaned back against the booth, letting out a slow exhale. “There are ways around that.”