Brett: I had a high school sweetheart, but we were kids. I never expected that relationship to last a lifetime. And no, she was not the kind of girl who wanted to be in a pageant, even though she was gorgeous. She could run it, but she would never be in it.
I heard Lacy give a short laugh, likely because she knew that in this instance, Brett wasn’t wrong.
Interviewer: What are you looking for in your big romance?
Brett: My momma raised me right, so it’s not about appearances for me. I want a girl who likes to go to church, who makes me laugh, who wants a couple of kids, who has the all-American values I grew up learning.
Interviewer: Would you ever date a celebrity?
Brett: I mean, yeah, who wouldn’t? But that’s not what I’m looking to get out of this experience. I want a down-to-earth lady who lets me treat her right.
That did not sound like the Brett Brinkley I knew. I was about to open the door when I heard Lacy and Anton again, though I couldn’t see them from my place peeking through the doorway.
“He had it coming to him,” Anton said, each word sharp and clear despite the Texas drawl that usually made him sound so charming. “You can’t treat people like… that… and expect to get away with it.”
“I know,” Lacy said, a hiccupping cry escaping along with the words.
Anton and Lacy had met a couple of years ago while Lacy was at a networking conference in Texas. He was working as a waiter, and she was happy when he served her the wrong plate and struck up a conversation. A few months later, he’d moved to Virginia to be near her, which didn’t seem like much of a sacrifice since, as far as I could tell, he didn’t have a definitive career path. I appreciated that he almost matched me in his love for the outdoors. Tonight, Anton wore jeans and a cowboy hat, and in town, he’d taken over my duties at Straight from the Horse’s Mouth Stables. If I had to guess, I would say his pay was going toward buying a ring. I liked the guy from what I’d seen so far, and ever since Brett, I’d been very picky about liking who Lacy dated.
“Brett was clearly a terrible person, and sometimes terrible things happen to those kinds of people.” Anton’s tone sounded as if he was trying to be reasonable, to lay out an argument, but to what end? To justify his own behavior? That of Lacy? His voice traveled and bounced off the walls as if he was pacing back and forth. “We can’t blame ourselves. Brett was the one who was threatening you. You just told him no.”
I could picture Lacy nodding along.
“Right, then.” The pacing seemed to stop as Anton said the next words: “It will get easier.”
Oh, Lord.What was the “it” that would get easier? Seeing a man die? Feelings of guilt? Or—far worse—knowing he had murdered someone?
Anton’s words were vague and concerning, reminding me how much I didn’t know about Anton or his past. I had no idea if he was the silent type or the jealous type. Did Lacy?
A minute passed, and I couldn’t hear what Anton was saying to her, but his tone sounded rushed and urgent.
“Fine. I understand,” Lacy finally said, her voice raised briefly before her words were muffled again.
I angled my position at the door, so I could see them. Her head was buried in her hands, her elbows on her knees. I had the urge to throw open the door, to demand that Lacy explain their conversation. But there was something about Anton’s mannerisms, about the way he was hovering over her, about the way he struck his hand against his thigh as he spoke that gave me pause.
Anton’s movements seemed erratic; even his hair was mussed and standing on end.
“Don’t say a word to the sheriff,” Anton finally commanded. “Whatever you do, don’t tell him a thing, especially not the part about the one that got away.”
I hid in the shadows as Anton and Lacy left the Media Room, Brett’s interview still playing behind them.
Interviewer: You don’t believe in the one?
Brett: There could be a million girls who could make me happy. Good thing too, since the one that got away isn’t coming back.
I watched Anton guide Lacy away, his arm tight around her waist like he was afraid she might slip away.
SIX
I reminded myself to take a deep breath and not borrow trouble, as Momma would say. I had enough of my own anyway.
“Lacy.” I called to her in the hall. She turned and pulled away from Anton as if tethered between us.
I started toward her, and as I neared, she caught my eye before quickly looking away from me.
“We need to talk,” I said, knowing I sounded a bit desperate.
“I can’t right now,” Lacy said. “Anton needs me to?—”
