“’Kay. I’ll let you finish up in here. I don’t want Vaughn to think we’re fucking without him again. Poor guy.”
“Yeah, I woke up in the middle of the night to you pogo-sticking on his dick. Poor, poor, Vaughn.”
“Bye, Shaw!” I leave him to his inventory and join Vaughn in the Escalade. Shaw is only a few seconds behind me. We wait for him to lock up the barn and house, then we drive into town to a breakfast spot called the Salty Dog. It's a beautiful summer morning, so we grab a table outside. I make myself comfortable next to Vaughn while Shaw sits across from us. A nice, white girl hands us our menus and tells us she’ll be back with waters and the gallon of orange juice Shaw has preemptively ordered.
“Okay, what’s good here?” I ask.
“They have cinnamon roll pancakes you might enjoy,” Vaughn says, pointing them out on the menu for me. He’s sitting with his other arm around me. I know I’m going to miss this closeness with him, with the both of them, as soon as I get back on the road. Our server comes back and I order the cinnamon pancakes and some eggs, while Vaughn and Shaw order the rest of the menu between the two of them. It takes a lot to feed that much man.
“Shaw, what’s on the agenda for this week, besides your hatred of all things birch?” I ask.
“I have—Jesus Christ.” I turn and follow his gaze over my head, just as some man brushes by me. Detective Jansen pulls out the open chair beside Shaw and takes a seat. “Man, what the fuck.”
“I have to say, I thought I was seeing things, but I’m not,” he says, attempting to keep his voice down. “It really is Bronx Assistant District Attorney, Brooklyn Lewis, sitting here cozy as can be with Corrine Johnson’s former lovers. Both of them.”
“You can leave now,” Vaughn says.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Shaw says.
“Detective Jansen. How are you? What brings you to the Cape?” I say calmly. He and his partner were good to me during the whole ordeal, once they cleared me. Comforting and kind. They did their best to keep me in the loop. Still, I am less than happy to see him.
“Just visiting family, quick stop before we get back on the road.” He nods toward the window. I peer through the glass and there’s a table of eight or so white people watching us. Great. “What are you doing here, Ms. Lewis? I actually spoke with the Delinskys last week.”
“Good. How are they?”
“Good as can be expected. Still dealing with the grief, of course.”
“Look man,” Shaw starts, but Detective Jansen just keeps his eyes focused on me.
I feel my own face heating. I’m pissed, mostly, because how fucking dare, but my A.D.A. brain has already kicked in.
“Detective, is there anything in particular you would like to discuss? If not, I would really appreciate it if you let us enjoy our breakfast. And I’m sure your family would be happy to see you back inside.”
“I’m just wondering how this all came together. Your cheating fiancé dies with their cheating partner and then, bam, the three of you out enjoying yourselves miles and miles away from the comforts of New York City. I mean, this doesn’t look like a casual run-in. This looks like a weekend getaway. But you live closeby don’t you, Mr. Shaw? Did you invite Ms. Lewis out here to partake in the less than savory activities Mrs. Johnson mention to me?”
I glance over at Shaw and see that he’s doing his best not to punch the man in the side of the head. I can feel Vaughn practically vibrating beside me. I stand and nod down the street. “Let’s go.”
Detective Jansen raps his knuckles on the table, a nice fuck you to the guys, and then follows me down the street. A few people are watching us as I try not to hurry. I step into the alcove of a closed jewelry store and turn around.
“Do you really think that was the best way to approach us?” I ask him.
“Do you think spending time with them is a good idea? What the hell are you doing?”
I take another deep breath and think about the detectives I work with every day and what they would say, whatIwould say if we found out the significant others of two murder victims were suddenly hanging out together. Trauma does weird things. Victims and survivors turn to the most unexpected people for all kinds of comfort after a tragedy. But I’m sure he never expected me to turn to Vaughn and Shaw. Not that it’s any of his business. Not anymore.
“Do I need to reopen this?” he says, trying to put some bass in his tone.
“What? Of course not. Vaughn introduced himself to meafterJosh’s funeral because he was trying to get some closure. He didn’t even know Josh’s name until you and your partner spoke to him.AfterCorrine Johnson’s funeral. I don’t know about you, but I haven’t mastered time travel enough to plan a double-murder homicide of the man I didn’t even know was cheating on me.”
Detective Jansen sighs and scrubs a hand down his face. He knows I’m right. I talked to him and his partner for hours. Shared every detail of my life with Josh. They both sat with me while my emotions caused me to vomit more than once. I know how this looks now, but I sure as fuck—we—did not plan Josh and Corrine’s deaths. That was all Ryan Morgan and Ryan Morgan alone.
“Fine. Okay. But are you shacking up with them?”
“I really want you to rethink that question. And I don’t appreciate you speaking like that to Christopher or Vaughn. They lost someone too, no matter how you personally feel about them.”
“All I’m saying is Miss Johnson’s family had nothing good to say about these two and, considering the circumstances, I’m thinking about how this looks for one second. I get reaching out, but Sunday breakfast on the Cape isn’t reaching out. What would you do if this fell in your lap? Would you just let this slide without asking a single question?”
I swallow and look past his shoulder. Vaughn is watching us. I can only glimpse the back of Shaw’s head. I’m sure he’s trying to grind his teeth right out of his jaw. It’s taking everything in my power not to start explaining. It really is none of his business and the more I say, the more it’ll sound like I’m trying to rationalize what I know is a bad idea. Like I’ve committed a crime, which I haven’t.
