CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Jake paged through the thick legalese documents that comprised the Randall Kern lawsuit. There was enough reading material for a decade.
“Hey, find anything?” Amanda asked, taking a seat across from him.
“Where have you been?”
Her throat turned red. “Just…talking.”
He narrowed his eyes. “To the librarian you don’t admit to being chatty with?”
“She said this lawsuit was the gossip of the community when it happened. After you review the file details, we should go back to Mary Galden’s house, talk to her.”
“Good idea.” He passed fifty pages across the table. “Start reading these. Anything about Randall Kern getting fired or the company claiming fraudulent or subpar equipment policies is of interest.”
“Um, sure.”
Minutes ticked by, the silent hum of the air-conditioning providing the only sound besides Amanda’s slow breathing.
“Man, they really screwed Randall over,” he said. “The guy had a bright future, great opportunities.”
“Yeah?”
He nodded. “Until the execs at this company, Bello and Toale, fired him. They accused him of swapping out required standard materials and trying to embezzle the money saved.” Jake shook his head. “Poor guy.”
His hero. The father of roller coaster design. And these bastards ruined him. No wonder the guy became a freaky recluse. If the engineering department at UGA conspired to ruin Jake’s reputation, he wouldn’t have a chance. People in academia had elephant memory. No way would he survive even a false accusation.
Surely the company that fired Randall had falsely accused him. No way would any self-respecting engineer create something that would harm people. Not deliberately.
Amanda snuck her hand across the table, reached for his. “You want to go see Randall again, don’t you?”
Jake shrugged. “Is it that obvious?”
“Like I said, Jake Mercer. You’re an open book.”
He smiled and lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “I wish I could read you as easily as you seem to read me.”
She lowered her gaze. “I’m complicated.”
“You’re a challenge, Amanda Moss. A challenge.”
* * *
Jake placed the pertinent copies he’d made of the Randall Kern lawsuit in the backseat of his Honda Civic.
“You have everything you need? We should spend more time at Zephyr Land and interviewing witnesses so we don’t have to return to the library,” Amanda said. She’d used her factual voice, one he only heard on rare occasions.
He slid into the driver’s seat and started the ignition. “Are you ever going to tell me what you have against this place?”
Her hazel eyes glanced away before returning to meet his gaze. “Nothing. We just need to keep our focus.”
“What about your carousel project?” he asked. “How come you’re talking to me about focus?”
“Fair enough.”
Her lips drew into a tight line, with one edge of her mouth curled upward. She was pretending to be upset, but that little upswing told him she wasn’t truly angry. Just playing.
He drove out of the parking lot, keeping his gaze on the road to Mary Galden’s place. “I’m only saying you have a problem with that gypsy-looking librarian, and I’d like to know why.”
Amanda sighed loud enough to wake the possums dangling from nearby trees on either side of the highway.
“Can we just say I would rather we do our own research? Leave it at that?”
“No. Not this time. You’ve always been mysterious. I usually like it.”
She put one leg under her other one and sat watching him as they drove. “But not now.”
“Exactly.”
Was she beginning to see his point of view, or was he imagining things again? One thing he’d learned: most women didn’t make sense. That’s what he loved about Amanda when she wasn’t in her superstitious moods. She did make sense.
She opened her mouth as if to speak, but kept quiet. Time to get to the bottom of this.
He pulled off the main road into a widened side lane and parked.
“I feel like you’re lying to me when you’re this mysterious.”
She turned in surprise, her black pupils growing big. “Lying? That isn’t my intention.”
Leaning back, he got comfortable. Obviously this conversation would take a few minutes.
“Back in Athens, you’re carefree, fun, full of life. More than that,” he said, “you’re a smart woman who’s honest with me. Since we came here, you seem to be keeping secrets.”
Her lower lip tucked under her upper one, and she flexed her jaw muscles.
“I don’t want to pressure you, but don’t you think we should be open with each other? I don’t understand what’s so secretive about a librarian—”
“She’s my aunt.” Amanda gave a simple smile, one of happy resignation.
He opened his mouth to speak—nothing came out. He’d expected any number of her odd explanations, but saying the woman had been a relative? Not one of his top ten.
“Okay. Then why not introduce her as such?”
With a sigh, Amanda ran her hands through her wiry curls and pulled her hair back.
“Aunt Anzhela and I…we’re…different. There are things about us I don’t want you—or anyone—to know. And trust me—she’s the type to spill the beans to strangers.”
“Then why be so secretive? Your explanation makes logical sense. We all have skeletons in the closet, along with those family members who are excessively talkative. Why not just tell me?”
“I’m trying,” she whispered. “But anytime she and I were alone, she’d start in on the lectures and things I should be doing with my life—”
“Ah. One of those aunts. I know the kind.”
Her cheeks flushed pink, and she smiled at him. “Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. You were so interested in talking to her, and I was worried she’d tell you things about us that you wouldn’t like—”
“Amanda.”
She kept her gaze on the floor.
“Look at me,” he said gently.
Slowly, she lifted those beautiful greenish pools with the black eyelashes. “Yes?”
Reaching for her hand, he took it and squeezed. “There may be things I don’t understand about you, but I like everything.”
She sniffled. Eyes brimming with tears. No. No. Don’t cry.
“I’m sorry…for lying…for not telling you the truth…” Her voice trailed off with her quiet sobbing.
Dear lord, don’t cry.
“It’s okay. We’re fine, all right?”
She nodded quickly.
“Thanks for telling me about your aunt. We have enough info from the files. We won’t return to the library unless you want to. Okay?”
She beamed at him, her pink cheeks dripping with tears. “Thanks.”
“You ready to go interview Mary again? Get some details?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” He adjusted his rearview mirror. “And afterward, I want you to focus on your project. Don’t let my paper overshadow the work you need to be doing.”
With a half smile, she said, “Will do.”
Great. He’d had a breakthrough with her. Now they could both forge ahead. Logic would be their arsenal, not superstition.