Drew’s attention drifted to his hands again, his small smile a little bigger. “Cletus, you’ll have to ask Ashley that. But she has her reasons.”
“Reasons is another word for excuses.”
“Actually, you should ask her. I know she misses you and she’d welcome any contact, even if it’s you giving her a hard time.”
Ugh. Well, that statement makes me feel like a floating trash island.
I sighed for a third time, leaning forward in my seat to set my elbows on my knees. “Drew, I don’t want to give y’all a hard time. Just answer me this, because I have to know for my own sanity, and I need a dose of sanity right now: Do you want to marry my sister?”
“More than anything.”
“Does she want to marry you?”
“Absolutely. Yes.” No hesitation.
“Are you engaged?”
“No.”
“Why the hell not?” I resisted the urge to throw my hands up. These days, I’d been resisting so many urges, my resistance could be measured in ohms.
He shrugged, not looking bothered by my interrogation. “Tell you what, I’ll do my best to answer your question if you answer one of mine.”
“Deal.” I skootched to the edge of my seat.
“Tell me, honestly, how can I help—how can your family help—you and Jennifer, and even Ms. Donner, through this dark time?”
Once more I glanced over his shoulder, searching for something, anything that might help but that also didn’t require the divulging of secrets.
“You can . . .” I leaned back in the chair again, shaking my head. “You can tell me who killed Kip Sylvester.”
All the humor drained from Drew’s features, leaving his silvery eyes stark. “The police investigation isn’t going well?”
“I have no idea. No one will talk to me about it. I don’t even know if they found the gun.” There. That was the truth. I’d never been stonewalled so completely by the sheriff’s office, and stonewalling plus the surveillance of Diane told me everything I needed to know. Jenn’s mother was obviously their number one suspect, for some reason someone had decided to dedicate a ridiculous amount of resources to the investigation, and I needed to intervene as soon as possible. I needed to direct the law’s attention elsewhere. But I had no leads.
“What about Jackson?” Drew’s forehead wrinkled with what looked like disbelief.
“No. Not even Jackson will talk to me.”
“Really? I’m sure he’d talk to one of us.”
“You think so? You think you can get Ashley to make him talk?” I chuckled tiredly at the sarcastic suggestion, expecting Drew to do so as well. Jackson’s adoration for my sister was no secret, though she did nothing to encourage him.
To my surprise, Drew shrugged. “Sure. Why not? If you think it’ll help.”
That had me leaning forward in my seat again. “Would she? Would she do it?”
“If you asked, she’d do anything. You know that.”
I stroked my beard, considering the idea for real. It might work.
I didn’t need her to do anything untoward, just invite the man out to lunch, get him talking. Ash could do it, I knew she could, and she’d make it all seem like his idea.
At this point, my options were drying up.
Not all options . . .
Repo was a thread I hadn’t been able to nail down. Three days after the engagement party, Repo stopped using his Wraiths-issued phone and borrowed other Iron Wraiths’ bikes at random rather than using his own. Burro couldn’t track him reliably anymore. I hated that Repo was so smart. It was almost as inconvenient as Sheriff James’s incorruptibility.
Complicating matters, I surmised Jennifer and I were also under some sort of surveillance as of last week when I caught a man in a white Ford four-door watching me load groceries into my Geo at the Piggly Wiggly. Ridiculous! Sheriff James’s office did not have the resources to conduct this level of reconnaissance, but obviously someone within the legal system had made tracking Diane and her family a priority.
Which was one of the reasons I’d delayed my plans to approach Elena Wilkinson. Under normal, non-murder investigation circumstances, I knew she’d likely hesitate before speaking with me, seeing as how my testimony was a big reason her sister rotted in jail.
So under these tense murder investigation circumstances, I felt certain Elena wouldn’t so much as give me the time of day. I’d have to intimidate her into talking. Side note, I despised how police surveillance made extorting and threatening people difficult. So frustrating.
But I did keep tabs on the woman.
After being released from the hospital, she’d arranged Kip’s funeral. My spies on the ground told me the event had been sparsely attended, but that Isaac had made an appearance, sitting in the back and speaking to no one. Jenn hadn’t been there. She’d considered it, but finally made up her mind that very morning not to go. Instead, she’d returned to work and baked for fourteen hours straight.
I did have one chance to question Elena coming up, however. The reading of Kip’s will, scheduled for this coming week, would be a golden opportunity and one I didn’t plan to squander. Now, I know what you’re thinking; there’s no such thing as a “will reading,” it’s just something movies, TV shows, and mainstream fiction have propagated and harvested for dramatic effect.
Nevertheless, according to the dead man’s lawyer, Mr. Leeward Esquire, who was also the executor of the will, Kip Sylvester had wished there to be one of these propagated will readings before the document was sent to probate. He’d specifically asked for it and had named the people he wanted in attendance: Diane, Elena, Isaac, Jennifer, and—randomly—my brother Billy.
Diane had decided not to go.
I had no idea what Isaac or Elena planned.
Billy had asked Jenn first thing if she wanted him there, she’d said she did. He was going.
Jenn planned to attend. She’d asked me to come and support her, and of course I absolutely wanted to do so. Jenn may have been discontent over the last several weeks, and she may have been working through unwieldy thoughts and feelings without sharing them all, but she relied on me. She trusted me.
Which brings me to the lie.
“What’s wrong?” Drew, again interrupting my thoughts, tilted his head to the side. “I’m telling you, if you ask Ashley to help, she’ll do it.”
“Yes. I know that. Thank you,” I said, distracted by the albatross of guilt hanging around my neck. Guilt wasn’t a state I succumbed to often, but when I did, it suffocated like drowning in sand.
“So, you’ll call Ash?”
“I will ask for her assistance with Jackson.”
“Good.” Drew’s stare sharpened. “So why do you look troubled?”
The lie. I hadn’t yet told Jenn the truth.
I’d wanted to, but she’d been so withdrawn, worried, sad, and unusually uncommunicative. She jumped at small sounds but didn’t seem to hear big ones. It’s not that she avoided me—she didn’t, not at all, we spent every night together and each of our days off, just like before—but she never seemed to have words to share. I wasn’t going to push her.
I’d threaten and coerce anyone else who required threatening and coercing in order to keep Jenn and her kin safe, but I’d never do so with her. Ever.