“Hey, sexy,” she answered cheerfully.
“Hey, Georgie. Quick question—what was the last name of the boy who worked at Jefferson’s ball opening car doors? His first name was Paul.”
She let out a brief, surprised laugh. “I wouldn’t have thought he’d be your type.”
“I just have someone who might have some work for him,” I lied.
“Oh, okay, it’s Smith. He’s a sweet kid. I have his number, so I’ll send it through.”
“You’re awesome, thanks Georgie.”
“I know.” She giggled. “Catch up this week?”
“Absolutely. Gotta run now, though. I’m at work, chat soon.”
“See ya!” she said brightly and hung up. The text came through with his number a few seconds later, and I dialed it immediately.
He answered in three rings. “Hello?”
“Hello, is this Paul Smith?” I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel absently.
He hesitated. “Yes, it is. Who’s this?”
“Hi, Paul, it’s Amy Williams. I met you briefly at the ball. I went home with Ethan Braxton.”
“Oh yes, I remember you.” I could hear the smile in his voice, and I knew what he was thinking. I rolled my eyes.. “What can I do for you, Amy?”
I thought about lying, making up some story that I was working for Matt, but I knew it could get messy, so I asked straight out, “I was just wondering if I could ask you a few questions about the cars you drove out on that night.”
He hesitated again. “Ahh, yeah I guess.”
“It’s nothing bad, I promise it won’t get you in trouble.” He didn’t respond, so I plowed ahead. “I was wondering if you can remember bringing Katrina and Robert’s car around to them that night?”
Silence. He knew something, and he wasn’t going to answer me. “Paul, are you there?”
“Yeah, sorry, just thinking. No, I don’t actually. I think it may still have been there when I left. There were about a dozen or more cars in the lot still, but Mr. Jefferson let us go early due to the storm.”
“What time was that?”
“About 12:30, why?”
“I’m friends with their daughter,” I lied again. “She just asked me to get some information so she can piece together the events in her mind.”
He drew a breath. “It’s sad, isn’t it?”
“Horrible,” I answered, my throat tightening. “Sorry, just one more question. Do you happen to know if Karson Worthington’s car was still at the party when you finished up?”
“Yeah, I remember it. That car is the stuff dreams are made of. I was wishing I could take it for a spin,” he gushed.
“Thanks, Paul, I appreciate it. I know Karson, so I’ll see if I can get him to take you for a spin one day.”
“Really?” He sounded excited. “That’d be awesome.”
“I’ll do my best. Thanks again, see you later.”
My heart thudded against my chest with sickening intensity. What did this all mean? Karson had lied, Robert wasn’t drunk, they didn’t leave early, and Karson had stayed later than he said.
I tucked my knees to my chest, closing my eyes, and the visions came storming back.
