Outside, she gulped as much air as possible.Bastard.
She didn’t care what that evil little man said, her father had to have a good reason for interacting with him. Ed Wallace wouldn’t have any secrets harmful to anyone other than perhaps himself. The remark about her being interested in the truth had been designed to unnerve her. Well, Fairgate had succeeded. Damn him.
She started her car, executed a three-point turn, and barreled down the drive. She stopped for the gate, irritation pounding with every beat she waited; then she rolled out into the street.
A black Corolla parked on the other side of the street caused her to slow when she wanted to floor the accelerator and rocket away from this place. The woman behind the wheel stared at Emily, then waved through her open window.
Misty Briggs?
Emily braked automatically, powered her window down, and resuscitated one of her pretend smiles. “Hi.” She could feel the new rumors forming and mutating already. She should not have come here.
Misty Briggs adjusted her clunky glasses. “Emily.” She glanced at the closing gate. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Emily prompted her brain to generate a plausible excuse. “I came to speak with Mr. Fairgate.” No point pretending otherwise. The woman wasn’t blind, just nearsighted.
“Oh.” Ms. Briggs met Emily’s eyes briefly, then stared in the direction of the house again as if something there kept distracting her. “Lots of people come to see him.”
Okay. No need to prolong this strange reunion. Before Emily could offer a parting line, Briggs asked, “Was he there?”
Confused at first, Emily asked, “Who?”
Those huge hazel eyes, magnified further by the thick lenses, flicked to Emily’s. “Fairgate.”
“Oh. Yes, he was there.”
“Alone?”
Stranger by the second. “You mean alone other than his apelike bodyguards?”
“Yes, that’s what I mean.”
“I didn’t see anyone else.” Sitting here havingthisdiscussion with her former science teacher who had clearly inhaled way too many toxic fumes was incredibly weird. “Well, it was good to see you.”
Briggs scrutinized Emily now as if she’d only just realized to whom she was speaking. “Justine mentioned that she’d spoken with you.” Briggs said this as if she hadn’t heard Emily’s cue that she intended to go, as if she hadn’t asked those odd questions about Fairgate. “She thought you seemed terribly upset about Clint Austin’s release.”
Emily wanted to ask what she was supposed to feel; instead, she said with amazing aplomb, “I’m extremely disappointed in the legal system.”
Briggs pushed at her glasses again. “You know, I almost hate to mention this, but the subject came up in the hair salon the other day.”
Here it came. This was why Emily rarely came home and never ventured into town.
“I’m certain there’s nothing to it,” Misty went on. “Just a rumor.”
Emily braced herself. She should just drive away and leave the woman sitting here wondering why.
“It was very disturbing, though. The rumor suggested that Austin was innocent. That his alibi was real, but he just couldn’t prove it.” She stared at the Fairgate house again as if God himself resided there. “I guess onlyheknows the answer to that one.”
Despite having buttressed herself for the disclosure, Emily hadn’t been adequately prepared. She couldn’t dredge up a response. The idea that Justine had mentioned being at the salon with all Emily’s old friends filtered through along with Misty’s remarks. Had they all been talking about Emily? About the murder?
A symphony of notes shattered the stifling silence.
“That’s my phone.” Briggs offered a quick smile. “Maybe I’ll see you again before you go back to Birmingham.”
Emily managed a choked goodbye, took her foot off the brake, and coasted away. She glanced in her rearview mirror. She’d gone through all that emotional turmoil and she still didn’t know any more than she had before she’d arrived.
Except a lot of ridiculous gossip about Austin’s alibi. He didn’t have an alibi.
What the hell did her father have to do with any of this? Her father did not keep damaging secrets. Gossip. Rumors. That was all this was.
