Page 66 of Unlocking Melodies

“You got her heart,” Gary said softly, his voice rough with emotion. “This network you're building, the communities you're helping – that's all her. She always said music was about bringing people together.”

The mention of my venue network made something click uneasily in my mind, but before I could examine it, Gary stood. He straightened his suit jacket – a gesture that felt oddly familiar, like looking in a mirror of nervous habits.

“I'm not asking for forgiveness,” he said, adjusting his cuffs with too much precision. “Just... maybe a chance to do better.”

Beside me, I felt Ethan tense slightly. Something about Gary's polished appearance and carefully chosen words seemed to bother him, though he kept his promise to stay quiet.

At the door, Gary paused. “Your mother used to say music heals what memory can't reach.” His gaze moved between Ethan and me, weighted with meaning I couldn't quite grasp. “Maybe she was right about that too.”

The bell chimed softly as he left. Through the window, I watched him walk away – shoulders straight, steps measured, like each one carried the weight of attempted redemption. Something about his exit felt too choreographed, too perfect, like a performance rather than a genuine departure.

“He's not what I expected,” I said finally, breaking the heavy silence.

“No,” Ethan agreed, but his tone held reservations. His eyes followed Gary's retreating figure with the kind of careful assessment I'd seen him use in business meetings.

I flipped through the album he'd left, stopping at my mother's radiant smile. “You're thinking something.”

“Several things,” Ethan admitted. “The suit, for one and the carefully rehearsed stories”

“You think he's playing an angle?”

“I think...” Ethan chose his words carefully. “I think genuine redemption rarely comes with pressed suits and perfect timing.”

The observation made me look at the morning's events in a new light. Every story, every gesture, every carefully placed photo – it all felt a bit like a production now that I thought about it.

“You noticed how he dodged any real questions about the attack?” Ethan added quietly. “How he kept steering the conversation back to your mother, to memories he knew you couldn't verify?”

“So what do we do?” I asked, looking down at the photo of my mother and me, trying to reconcile the genuine joy in that moment with the uneasy feeling growing in my chest.

“We wait,” Ethan said, his hand finding mine under the table. “And we watch. Because if there's one thing I learned in business – when something seems too perfectly presented...”

“It usually is,” I finished, the truth of it settling like a weight. “Though you have to admire his commitment to the role. The suit alone probably cost more than a gambling addict should be able to afford.”

Ethan's smile was grim. “Exactly. Question is – who's bankrolling this particular performance?”

Through the diner's window, the morning sun caught something metallic – a flash from a car that had been parked across the street all morning. As I watched, it pulled away smoothly, following the same direction Gary had taken.

Maybe some memories were better left buried. The question was – whose memories were we really dealing with?

Chapter 17

Fractured Truth

“Look, I get that you want answers,” Jake's voice crackled through my phone, “but Ramirez isn't exactly being chatty about his connections.”

“Tomorrow morning works. Just... get me ten minutes with him.”

"Ten minutes to what? Intimidate him with your corporate death stare?" Jake's sigh carried years of small-town sheriff wisdom. "Fine. But I'm warning you – he's been about as forthcoming as Winston during surveillance duty."

I stood at the window of my hotel room after hanging up, staring out at Oakwood Grove's quiet streets. Every piece of information I had about Gary Reed set off warning bells in my corporate-trained brain - his sudden appearance, his careful stories, the way he managed to say everything and nothing at the same time. Something wasn't adding up, and after years of corporate negotiations, I'd learned to trust that instinct.

My phone lit up with Jimmy's text

Jimmy

Dinner at the ranch tonight? Caleb's grilling, and Nina's bringing pie. No suits allowed – Melody's still holding a grudge against Italian wool.

The invitation felt like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. Meanwhile, my laptop blinked with another update from Mia – more financial anomalies in Gary's recent activities. Someone was funding his redemption tour, and the numbers suggested it wasn't small-time gambling money.

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