I wish her goodbye and watch her move in long strides toward the exit. As soon as she’s gone, I extract my phone and tap Logan’s number. I’m not sure how he’ll feel about me going around Halligan, but I needto share what I’ve learned about Riley—that she was telling the truth after all. When the call goes to voicemail, I leave a message asking him to get in touch as soon as possible.
I should be relieved. Halligan now has important new information to take into consideration, and Logan and I don’t have to adddupedto the list of crap we’ve been through this week.
Instead, my body is practically humming with unease again. I do my best to interpret the sensation, but it’s like trying to eavesdrop on an ominous-sounding conversation from another room and not making out a single word.
Chapter 18
The waitress drifts over, smiling pleasantly.
“You all set, hon?” she asks.
I glance at my watch. I’ve still got a little time left on the clock with Craig.
“Actually, I’d love a cup of tea,” I say.
Once she saunters off, I return to my disquiet, trying to make sense of it. Maybe doubting Riley gave me something to focus on besides the ghastly details she shared, and now that I’ve got good reason to accept her story, those awful images are fighting their way back into my head. And they’re taunting me about Mel, telling me, “See, this is the living hell your daughter was forced to endure as well.”
But there’s something else at work now, too, and I’m pretty sure its name is Jeffrey Handler.
Morgan clearly disliked the man, and since she hasn’t let go of that sentiment with time, the issue was probably bigger than him being gruff or demanding as a boss. Maybe he failed to credit her for the research she did, a “crime” that plenty of academics apparently have been guilty of.
Or maybe the answer is hiding right there in the snide comment she made: “Well,studentswere in total awe of him.” It’s possible Morgan sensed something inappropriate between Handler and one of the students, a variation of the scene I saw yesterday. He might have even come on toher.
And then there’s her revelation about the archive for creative work. Why wouldn’t Handler at least have mentioned it to me? It could almost make me think he doesn’t want me to see Mel’s writing.
Somehow, I need to learn more about Handler and his relationship with Mel.
The waitress sets the tea down in front of me, and as she does, I think instantly of Bas, who’s probably having a cup of maté at the kitchen table. I realize I promised to update him after the meeting with Halligan, so I quickly make the call.
This time, I decide, I’m going to share more and better loop him in to what’s happening here. Luckily, the nearest diners are three booths away.
“Sorry I didn’t call earlier,” I tell him, “but things have been crazy since the meeting.”
“So, how did it go? I’ve been on pins and needles.” His voice sounds huskier than normal, and I wonder if he was dozing when I called.
“It was a total shock,” I say. “Turns out, there’s a victim we never knew about.”
“I thought there were two?”
“What?” I ask, confused.
“I thought there were two new victims: one in Ohio and one in another state ... Pennsylvania.”
“Right, but this is someone else entirely, a survivor who we met today. She says she was attacked by Ruck the same week as Melanie, very close to Pebble Creek Park. Which gives us a reason to think what he told his lawyer about Mel reallywasa lie.”
“Pebble Creek Park is . . . ?”
“The name of the park Mel was murdered in.”
“Right, of course. My God, this is a shock.”
“I know. And it’s all happening so fast.”
“Which way are you leaning now, about Ruck?”
I want to describe the meetings with Riley and Morgan and share some of the odd qualms I’ve had—stillsort of have—but a party of twohas entered the diner and is making a beeline in this direction, perhaps headed for the next booth.
“Let me tell you more when I’m not out in public, okay?”
