I am guilty of keeping my hands to myself when I saw someone falling.
Detective Wilkes calls as I stand in aisle three.
“Eric Prince says he never sent you any letters or kicked in your door.” My shoulders slump, my internal debate over which cereal to buy forgotten. He continues. “I went to your property manager’s office and got the note she found this morning. Brynn, I’m sorry to tell you this, but it appears to be a female’s handwriting.”
I sigh quietly, my gaze dropping from the boxes of cereal to the floor. “Now what?”
“I have someone looking into cameras that may have been running in the area this morning. From nearby businesses and such. I’ll let you know what I turn up.”
“How was he?”
“Prince? Seemed okay, I guess. A little disheveled, maybe I woke him.”
I’d been picturing him as someone with a deranged glint in his eye, dirty clothes, and unkempt, too-long hair. Very different from the clean-cut guy in the family photo the news sites kept using.
“A few months ago Amy’s mother found a journal. I didn’t call you because I hoped you were moving on and didn’t want to stir the pot, but you might as well know now.” He clears his throat and continues. “We can’t be certain unless we have it examined by a therapist, but it sounds like Amy was dealing with postpartum depression.”
Oh. Ohhh. That makes sense. That day in the bookstore…I never told anyone I saw her before the moment she stepped off the curb. I didn’t want people to know she’d ignored her crying infant.Postpartum depression…
“Thanks for letting me know,” I say quietly. “Do you still want the letters I was sent?”
“It wouldn’t hurt for me to see them,” he says. “Drop them off like we discussed. If anything comes up, I’ll be in touch.” Wilkes hangs up.
I sigh and rub my eyes, mentally sorting through everything. I’ve never considered the possibility it could be anyone but Eric Prince.
If not him, then who?
20
Connor
“Hey man,”Anthony yells across the rows of chips and cases of cold drinks. “You filling up?”
“Yeah,” I answer, grabbing a package of sunflower seeds and the biggest bottle of water I can find. I consider buying a twenty-two of beer but decide against it. “What are you up to?” I ask, joining him. He’s standing in front of the hot dogs. They roll around on the burner, glistening with grease.
“Looking for a heart attack.” He shakes his head. “I can’t eat this shit. I need real food.” He eyes the sunflower seeds in my hand. “Looks like you could use some real food too. Want to grab dinner?”
I shake my head. “Can’t. I have to go shopping.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Does Brynn have you shopping with her already? You’re whipped.”
My heart twists at the mention of Brynn. It’s been two days since I’ve seen her. Two days since she told me we’re better off apart and stood next to her open front door, waiting for me to leave.We’re still friends, she said as I walked away.I’ll be there Friday night.
My gallery opening. Probably the last night I’ll ever see Brynn. Her parents will pad her bank account with as much money as she needs to get to wherever the hell she’s going, and she’ll skip town.
But she’s not leaving without a few things from me.
Ignoring the whipped comment, I tell him I need to pick up some stuff from Sports House. The massive outdoors store on the far side of town has everything I need in one place.
Anthony walks beside me to the gas station register. He must’ve forgotten about the heart attack turning circles on a spit behind us.
“Good. I need to grab a few things for fishing this weekend. I lost a chatterbait to a snag and had to cut my line. Favorite one, too.” Anthony shakes his head, as if this is some great loss.
I give him a look and he laughs. He knows I don’t speakangler. “Don’t you have plans with Julia?” I don’t particularly want company tonight. I don’t need Anthony surveying my purchases.
“Nope,” he says, not getting the hint.
He whistles all the way to my truck and hops in the passenger seat. I sigh and pull the gas spout from my truck, tucking it back into the holder and tightening my gas cap. Looking around, I spot Anthony’s car parked off to the side, away from the people getting gas. There goes any hope that he would need to move his car and I could ditch him.
