Page 65 of First Surrender

At least she’s being realistic.

“I think he’ll be the Governor of North Carolina one day. I can see it.”

Okay. Maybe she’s not being realistic. The Governor is the same man now who was running things when my mom worked at his estate decades ago. He’s close to retirement but I’ve heard rumors that his son is next to run for office. I don’t have high hopes for Vanessa’s son.

“Let me ask you a question and maybe this is totally out of left field…”

She eyes me skeptically as she takes a drink of her sweet tea.

“How do you know Declan Randolph?”

Her eyes don’t even flinch, they don’t widen, or give anything away. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure who that is. A colleague of yours?”

“No, not quite. He was an associate of Tommy’s.”

Her eyes widen this time and she sputters. “Well, that has nothing to do with me. I was not involved with Tommy and his shenanigans in the slightest. Just who do you think that I am, Sheriff?”

“I’m not quite sure, Mrs. Porter.”

Her jaw sets and I see the coldness in her eyes that she hides so well. “I have tried to give you the benefit of the doubt. You’re young, cocky, and you flubbed my husband’s case as a trooper. But do not forget who pays your salary, young man. You are correct, my family goes back a long time in these parts and we have more power in this county than you ever will.”

“Enough power to get convictions overturned? People out of jail? Start apartment fires?” I ask, boldly. She stands up and tosses her napkin on the table.

“You’re out of line. Have a good day, Mr. Malec.”

She stomps out of the restaurant with a flurry, huffing the whole way. It’s about how I expected it to go but I still don’t have any concrete answers. If her family is the root of the crime then who runs it?

Vanessa Porter? Not likely.

I ask the waitress to box the food to go and stew on my thoughts all the way home. It’s as if the answer is right in front of my face but I’m missing a piece. There is something else that needs to come into play.

Why Declan Randolph?

He’s not related to any of them. He supposedly has never even met Thomas Jameson and I believe Mrs. Porter when she says she doesn’t know him. So, where does he fit into all of this?

Someone helped him get out of jail. I know his defense lawyer isn’t that good. An old detective just so happened to get slammed with planting evidence at the exact right time to dismiss Declan’s case… But, why?

Who would have set Dec’s room on fire?

Who is the mastermind?

It’s dampening my mood entirely and I know it will only be a matter of time before I lose more sleep over it. I thought I was getting somewhere but I don’t feel any further than I did a month ago.

When I walk through the front door, I expect to see Dec on the couch but the house is silent. He should be off the bus by now but I don’t usually get home until after 5, so maybe I’m mistaken.

“Natalie?” If she’s not in the kitchen, she’s normally in her room but when I go down the hallway, the bathroom light is on like it was this morning. The door is closed but it’s not soundproof. I can hear muffled sobbing.

“What’s wrong?” The sobbing only intensifies. I try the handle but it’s locked. Something’s not right and my usually calm reactivity is flying out the window. All of my issues at work are suddenly the furthest thing from my mind.

“Open the door.” I plead gently, but nothing happens. “Natalie, open the door or I’ll bust it down. I swear to God.”

“I can’t,” she cries, heartbreakingly sad.

“Yes, you can. Please, sweetheart,” I beg. I can’t stand knowing that she’s in there alone and crying. The door is only a barricade. An obstacle that I will easily go around if it means I can get to her.

I step back, preparing to kick it in until I hear the lock click.

Chapter Thirty

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