Page 33 of Save Me

Even before my uncle’s death, I noticed Blackmon’s penchant for cutting corners. He often worked to convince my uncle to skimp on the quality of liquor we sold or complained about paying our staff too much.

One of the first orders of business, once my uncle passed, was to get Blackmon to relinquish his role as a partial owner because I wasn’t putting up with that bullshit.

I tell Kennedy as much.

She doesn’t say anything for a while. I can see the wheels in that pretty head of hers churning. She’s so sexy when she’s contemplative.

“Now I have a question for you,” I say. “What exactly are you investigating Blackmon for?”

She firms her lips together.

“No, Kennedy.”

Her eyes widen, and that vein in her neck quickens a touch.

“I gave you something. You give me something. Why are you investigating Blackmon?”

“I don’t know you. How do I know if I tell you my suspicions, you won’t go back and tell him? Or someone else?”

“Because I’ll give you my word. You can trust me, Kennedy.”

She twists her lips. “I didn’t become an investigative journalist because I trust easily.”

A chuckle spills from my lips. “No, I suppose not. Still, you can trust what I say. Whatever is shared between you and me won’t go further than that.”

She continues to remain quiet. Instead of a reply, she studies me, searching for the truth, I suppose. I let her stare because maybe she’ll finally realize who she belongs to.

She takes a step back with a sigh. I loathe the loss of eye contact. Rubbing her hands together, she glances around the room.

“An employee of his died,” she finally says. “It was a suicide, and she did it at the restaurant where she worked.”

I stiffen.

“When?”

“Four months ago.”

I wrack my brain, searching for the memory, but it never comes to me. Besides, I wouldn’t need to think too hard about hearing someone having committed suicide on the premises of a former business partner of mine.

“I’m pretty sure he had someone cover it up for him,” she continues. “There weren’t any articles or other news coverage of it.”

“How did it land on your radar?” I ask.

“I was investigating another case and came across the obituary. I have a contact at the coroner’s office who told me unofficially about what happened and where.”

She shrugs. “Since then, I’ve come up against every brick wall you can think of to get answers.”

Though I don’t doubt that she’s onto something, I have to ask, “What makes you believe this is anything more than a depressed employee who wanted to end it all?”

She rubs her lips together. “That very well could be the reason she took her life. Even the more experienced investigative reporters I’ve spoken to raised that question. On the surface, she didn’t have much going for her. It would seem that she just wanted it all to end. But …” Her voice trails off.

“Nothing is what it seems.”

Her eyes lock with mine. Something sparks in her eyes. I hold my breath.

Instead of recognition, however, I get her agreement.

“That’s right.” She pauses for a moment. “But I can’t get out of my head that she did it where she worked. I’ve read a little on suicide and spoken with a mental health professional on the topic. Often, the place where a person chooses to take their own life is significant.”

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