Page 24 of Chasing Liberty

She headed to the park, grateful it was a public area.

After parking on the street, she made her way across the quiet intersection and walked along the lakeside sidewalk to the stone bridge. Normally, she'd stop to admire the view, but today her focus was on finding the man she’d hoped to never see again. The sun draped its warm glow over the town, where the town seemed deserted except for an occasional leaf falling or a dog's bark in the distance.

Where could he be hiding?

Just as she was about to head back to her vehicle, she felt a pull on her sleeve. Startled and anticipating seeing Reggie, she instead found herself facing a woman with a Phillies cap that shaded her face.

"Keep cool," the woman instructed her. “Act natural.”

"What's your name?" Liberty asked in a hushed tone.

"You can call me Lacey," the woman responded, gesturing for Liberty to walk across the bridge. The woman's stiff smile didn't mask the detached coldness in her eyes. "Follow my lead if you want to keep those pictures out of the newspaper headlines tomorrow."

Liberty cast a discreet look around. Aside from a mother and child walking toward the swings, and a passing couple, no one noticed her and the woman. Maintaining her distance, Liberty followed her but remained cautious. "Who are you? Why should I be concerned about those photos?" she asked.

"You may not care now, but you will," replied the woman, adjusting her hat and revealing strands of oily blonde hair.

Liberty halted. "If you expect me to keep listening, I need to know who you are."

With a sigh, Lacey said, "I was getting there. You're so impatient. Do you really have no idea who I am?"

“I suppose you're connected to Reggie somehow. Ex-partner? Romantic partner? Spouse? Did he send you with that envelope?” Liberty overheard the child's laughter, watched her at play for a moment, and was touched by emotion between mother and daughter.

She knew she must be careful not to endanger her child. She had no clue how dangerous this woman’s intentions were.

"Dead men tell no tales, honey," Lacey stated sharply.

Liberty quickly refocused on the woman. "Excuse me?"

“My brother, Reggie, is no longer alive to tell the story behind the photos but I know enough that it could cause a crisisin your perfect family life.” Her sneaky smile returned. “Ready to listen now?”

Liberty struggled with the news of Reggie’s death. "How?" she wondered, questioning if she could trust the woman telling her or if it was a ruse.

Signaling impatience in her thin face, Lacey produced a death certificate from her pocket. Liberty examined it, noting the seal. However, the word "Suicide" listed as the cause of death made Liberty tense up.

She pulled the yellowed and ripped certificate away from Liberty’s view and stuffed it back into her pocket.

“When did he…?” She couldn’t complete the words.

“When he was released from the hospital, you know, the psych unit where they screwed with his head.” A stroke of sadness lit Lacey’s green gaze.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know," gasped Liberty, breathless.

"Let's move. There are a lot of nosy people in this town."

Confused, Liberty walked with her to the pavilion by the water, appreciating the chance to stop because she felt dizzy. "I'm sorry, but why are you here? What's your aim? I didn’t have anything to do with his death."

"You may not have done it directly, but you were the instigator. You led him to believe you loved him, he fell for you, and was willing to do anything for you. Then you discarded him as if he was nothing."

"Lacey... I'm not sure what you've been told, but that's not—"

"All rich people think they can treat others poorly because of their wealth." She shook her head, face flushed with anger. "I loved my brother; he was kind and didn't deserve your treatment."

Liberty leaned against the solidity of the rail. “Reggie saw things how he wanted to see them.”

Lacey’s chin tilted. “Keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night.”

“What purpose would it gain to draw attention to the past?” Liberty wanted to get to the bottom of things.

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