“Nope,” Brooke said.
Rory reached into his pocket. “Pictures from my sister’s phone. I’m not risking email. Not from mine and not to the sheriff station. You trusted me with having that ankle bracelet tested, then I can trust you with this. They might mean nothing, or it could be something. We told the police that Rene was drawing an old cabin and that I found the sketchbook. That was in the police reports.”
“It was,” Ford said. “But nothing about you having pictures from her phone.”
“That’s right,” he said. “But my mother told the police she had them. Someone looked through them and said it was nothing more than snapshots of that cabin and some up close pictures of the grounds for the drawing.”
“There should be something about that in the report,” Clay said.
“Exactly. I think it’s one of those things we just forgot about and believed what we were told. Maybe Detective Denning was right and it’s nothing. Or maybe he was sloppy with his job. It could be many things.”
“And if it’s something, then we’ll find out,” Ford said. “You’ve got my word.”
“I appreciate everything your family did and said today,” Rory told her three hours later.
“Trust them,” Gale said. “Ford is bothered by what he found out. I know he is, but he won’t make judgments or cast blame without the facts. It’s just how he operates.”
“Unlike your other brother, Clay?”
“Clay is special,” she said. “No one wants to piss him off either, but for a different reason.”
He wasn’t afraid of much in his life, but Gale’s brothers turned up the notch of fear a tiny bit.
“I want nothing to fall back on you. I’ll understand at any point if you need to or want to back off.”
“Don’t worry about me,” she said. “I’m good. I can take care of myself.”
“Like the gun in your purse that I didn’t know about?”
“A girl needs all sorts of accessories.”
He lifted one eyebrow at her. She pulled in front of his house. “You know, you’re kind of scary in your own right.”
She laughed. “Give me a kiss. If I go back into your place, my hands might find their way into your jeans again and I’ve got some work I need to focus on.”
He hated having pulled her away from her job, but he leaned over to give her the kiss she requested and then got out of her car, stood on the front steps and watched her pull away.
The minute he opened the front door he stepped on a piece of paper. He went to pick it up but stopped himself, took a picture of it with his phone, then left it there while he got a tissue to open it up in one corner.
There was a picture of a newspaper article about his sister’s murder with her face on it, and under it in red letters: “GO HOME BEFORE SOMEONE ELSE GETS HURT.” Below that was a printout article of Gale’s win in court last week.
Things were tighteningaround him and squeezing in too close for comfort. Something had to be done. Something sharper. More direct.
He couldn’t afford to lose control again. Not like that night he tried to prove himself and everything shattered into chaos. The memory clung like a parasite, a nasty infection no amount of drugs could remove. One night, one mistake, replaying in his head month after month until the nightmares had carved into his mind.
Maybe this note would be enough. Maybe Rory would take the hint, hear the whispers crawling through town, and decide it wasn’t worth the risk. Because if he didn’t and someone else got hurt, it would be on Rory’s conscience this time. Not his.
He gritted his teeth. Stupid loss of control. Just one slip, but it was enough to haunt him. He’d thought he was done reliving that nightmare until Rory returned to town.
He drove the few blocks, his heart steady now. The condos were ahead and it was familiar territory. He walked the path like he belonged, because he did, and no one would dare question why he was there.
The second note slid under the door with a whisper of paper on wood. And then he was gone.
16
NEED FOR THE TRUTH
Gale opened the door to her condo and stepped on paper. She bent to grab it, but something told her to stop.
