“Hey.” He ducks into my line of sight. “I’m here because of you.”
He is. But Davis’s words keep shoving themselves around in my head. You gotta stop clinging to her. It’s not a healthy way to grieve. What if Rook is something inside my head that I created to cope? I touch his hand to anchor myself.
He feels real.
Across the street at the sheriff’s station, I notice Oscar’s Bronco has returned. Must have missed it while we were talking.
“Don’t go anywhere.” I stand. Rook does, too. “I might need a rescue.”
“Let’s hope so.” He falls backward and scatters into the crow before his body even hits the ground.
Drops of rain begin to dot the thirsty pavement as I cross the street and head toward the station. The front doorbell announces my arrival with an electric biz-bong, a frazzled sound that’s crankier than my alarm.
Callie Wilson—a woman who’s birthed four kids and looks like she’s going to pop with number five—does a double take as she sees me. Thankfully, she’s tied up on the phone with another call ringing its next place in line. I pan a small wave hello.
Oscar, standing in the office hallway, looks up from the paperwork he’s flipping through. “Well, you’re making my job pretty easy today. Come to turn yourself in?” His disapproving stare tells me everything I need to know. Then he straightens a little taller when he spies the shiner bruising over on my left cheek, despite Aunt Violet’s attempt to cover it up. “What the hell?” He tilts my chin to the side to get a better look.
“Assault and battery?” I try.
Oscar frowns. “Is this before or after you illegally entered the Rutledge’s private quarters?”
“Does it help if I tell you I had a ticket for the tour?” I wince, wishing I still had that crumpled brochure.
“What would help is if you would stay away from that family and let me do my job, Weatherly. You stirred up a hornet’s nest out there today. They called in the sheriff personally. Apparently, you upset Mrs. Rutledge’s sister something terrible. Do I even want to know what that’s about?” Before I can answer, Oscar’s attention slides over to the glass door as headlights pan across the building. He lets loose a long sigh and a soft swear. The Rutledge’s shiny red Corvette parks out front.
“Rebecca and Lorelei are coming in to file a restraining order,” he mumbles. Something the court usually deals with, but I’m sure the judge can’t be bothered while he’s out fishing. “You better pray they don’t press charges, too.”
“Please, hear me out first.” I glance urgently over at the door; if they see me here, it’ll be all over with. “I swear it’s important. I found evidence today, evidence to help the case.” The urgency in my voice is enough to give him pause. He notices the plastic Walmart bag I’m holding. “Please.” I lay my hand lightly on his arm. Oscar’s posture softens at my touch. It feels wrong to use our past to implore him, but I’m desperate.
“Go wait for me in there.” He points a finger in the office he just walked out of. “And for God’s sake, keep out of sight and your mouth shut. Got it?”
I zipper my lips shut and slip into the office just as the door chime buzzes another staticky biz-bong.
“Hello, Mrs. Rutledge. Lorelei. I’m Deputy Torres.” There’s a quiet pause where I can barely hear that it’s Rebecca talking. “I’ve got a small matter to deal with first, but Callie here will help you get started on the paperwork. I’ll be right along shortly. Callie, can you show them to the break room, maybe get them a cup of coffee? Thank you.” Then Oscar’s silhouette shadows over the frosted glass door and he enters.
“This better be good.” He points to the chair where he wants me to sit, while he perches on the edge of his desk. His folded arms a stern warning.
“I think Lorelei Rutledge killed Adaire.” I vomit the words.
That handsome face of his slips to annoyance. “You said you have evidence for your case. Adaire’s case is closed.”
“What if I find something that opens it back up?” I tug that Walmart sack up in my lap protectively. The drizzle of rain outside picks up pace, tapping louder on the building’s tin roof.
He exhales heavily. There’s only a hairbreadth of his patience left. “I’m listening.”
“Adaire knew she was going to die. She saw it coming.” That’s how I start. This, Oscar does not question. He already knows what I can do, and I’m sure he’s heard whispers of the other peculiarities that run in our family.
“Three days before she died, she had a vision. She knew I was going to be in trouble. She told me Gabby had the answers, and she gave me a key.” I debate if I should tell him that I think it belongs to that box that’s in the picture they have of my mom. “She said ‘find the scales of justice, she holds the truth.’ Then today, after Lorelei assaulted me, she had on a necklace, the scales of justice—which is the astrological sign for Libra in case you didn’t know.” He stares at me flatly. “Now I thought it would be justice for me, but now I’m thinking she meant justice for herself. We found this tin box.”
“We who?”
“I,” I swiftly correct.
He lifts a questioning brow.
“I found this tin box with Adaire’s instructions, so kind of like we did it together.” Jesus Christ, Raelean would murder me herself if I got her into trouble.
“Found where?” He growls his words.
“Out at this farmhouse—”
“You were at the crime scene?” He snatches up the box, his anger coming at me like a dagger.
“Not technically. Well, maybe...but that box was inside the farmhouse, which was not part of the crime scene. Technically,” I reiterate.
He reads Adaire’s note. “She was right about what? What’s this droplet of rain? Riddled tongue? Where are you going with this story? This is all just random blather. Where’s the evidence?”
“I’m getting there! Jeez, Louise.” Out front, the door chime announces another person’s arrival, shrinking my borrowed time. “Gabby is the riddled tongue, she talks in circles. She gave me a blue glass droplet. It’s a family heirloom, my family’s.” I show him the bottle stopper. “When I asked her where she got it, she said she got it from the pocket of a dead deer. She was there when they hit a deer; she said so herself. Except I don’t think it was a deer at all but Adaire. And I don’t think it was Stone Rutledge or his car that hit her.”
Oscar’s incredulous flat stare says the last of his patience just evaporated. He stands, throwing up his hands. “I cannot believe you wasted my time with this tall tale. Rain droplets and a deer with pockets and riddles hidden in empty tin boxes.” He tosses the button tin on his desk. “Seriously, Weatherly?”
The door rattles with an urgent knock, Callie peeps her head inside. “Sheriff called, um...” She slips a look to me, then back to Oscar. “It’s pretty serious. He needs you out at the Rutledge place, ASAP.”
Oscar turns his scowl on me.
“What?” I hold my hands up in innocence. “I told you everything. I swear!”
“I’ll be there in a sec,” he tells Callie, and she smartly ducks out. “I’m not finished with you.” He grabs his deputy hat and Bronco keys.
