Page 20 of Call Back

“I’m fine,” I said, pushing off the afghan. “But I’d like to freshen up before we go.”

“Okay.” He stood and offered me his hand, then pulled me up. “Any preference where we eat?”

“You’re more familiar with what’s good than I am. You decide while I get ready.”

I headed down the hall to Brady’s room and checked my reflection in his bathroom mirror. I didn’t look too bad, just tired, so I added more under-eye concealer and freshened my lipstick. When I stepped back into the hallway, the sound of Brady’s voice stopped me in my tracks.

“This isn’t a coincidence, Owen. What are the chances of this happening again?” He paused for several seconds, then said, “You face your demons, and I’ll face my own.”

I crept closer and saw Brady sitting at his kitchen table in front of his open laptop. He glanced up and his eyes locked with mine. His back stiffened. “We’ll talk about this more later,” he said, hanging up without giving Owen a chance to respond.

What had they been talking about?

“You ready?” he asked as he stood. He smiled, but he wasn’t himself.

“Yeah. I would have changed, but I’ve worn everything else Belinda lent me, and I just grabbed some work clothes from my place for when I clean Ava’s house tomorrow.”

He looked startled. “You stopped by your place?”

“Yeah, after work. I needed to talk to Ava about when I could move back in. I told you I talked to her.”

“I thought maybe you called.” He looked like he was forcing himself to relax. “I wanted to be with you when you went for the first time. I know it had to be hard.”

I shrugged as I walked over to my purse. “It was hard when Ava and I took a look at all the damage, but it wasn’t so bad when I went back to get my clothes.” I almost told him that Colt had been with me, but decided to leave well enough alone.

I was silent as we walked to his car, wondering what demons Owen was facing. His uncle’s possible corruption? Or was it something more recent? Maybe me? Owen had made it clear to me that he wanted me to move out of Brady’s apartment. If he’d set up those cameras, he either hadn’t seen the footage yet, or he’d decided to deal with it in another way. I didn’t look forward to finding out which.

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, we were sitting at a high-top table in the bar of a hip new restaurant in the Belle Meade area. Since there was a thirty-minute wait for a table, we’d decided to have a drink in the bar. I was telling Brady several stories about my new boss, Alvin, when I heard a familiar voice behind me.

“Magnolia Steele, fancy meeting you twice in a few weeks.”

I knew who it was before I even turned around. My father’s former partner, and my brother’s current boss.

“Mr. James,” I said. “What a coincidence.” I glanced around. “Going solo tonight?”

“I’m here at a business dinner. And I’ve told you a million times to call me Bill.” He looked momentarily stunned when he glanced at Brady. “Detective Bennett.”

Brady gave a slight nod. “Mr. James. I’m surprised you remember me.”

“It’s not every day a Franklin police detective visits me in my Nashville office, or at all, I might add. I’m only sorry I couldn’t be more helpful.” After Walter Frey’s murder, I’d told Brady about my suspicions regarding my father’s disappearance. He’d questioned several of the people who’d known my father best—Bill James included.

Brady smiled, but it looked more polite than friendly. “You were more helpful than you know.”

Bill turned his attention to me, and his gaze fell to my chest before lifting slightly. “What a beautiful necklace.”

I absently lifted my hand to finger it. “Thank you.”

He hesitated and his expression turned sympathetic. “Magnolia, I was shocked to hear about your run-in with Geraldo Lopez. I had always suspected there was something . . . off about him. I’m only sorry you got dragged into the middle of it.”

“Thank you.”

“After everything that got tossed around by the press about Lopez and his involvement with your father, well, I’m sure you have a lot of questions . . .” He paused and shifted his weight. “What the press is insinuating . . . I want you to know that wasn’t the man I knew, and I’m sure that wasn’t the man you remember.” A warm smile lit up his eyes. “Would you be open to meeting for lunch or dinner sometime and swapping stories about your father? I know how close you were to him, and while he committed some terrible acts, maybe we could both remember the good things, not the bad.”

Brady said he hadn’t gotten anything out of Bill James, but most people were guarded with cops. “Thank you,” I said gratefully, even though the man creeped me out for some reason. Maybe because Momma had never seemed to like him. “I’d like that.”

“Good. That’s great.” He reached into his coat and pulled out a business card. “My cell phone number’s on there. Call me tomorrow and we’ll make the arrangements.”

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