Page 34 of Philly
“Will that work for you?” he asked Callie.
Hesitation lit her eyes. She wanted to stay, to comb through the data all night. To his surprise, she nodded. A slow, tiny one, but a nod. Considering how long she’d been searching for answers to Liza’s death, he didn’t underestimate how against her nature it was to slow down. “Thank you,” he said, then added, “I promise you, we will close Liza’s case. Both her murder and the one that put her in that situation.” He wasn’t sure it was true; Aiden Nolan was a slippery bastard, evidenced by how long he’d been doing what he did, but he’d do everything in his power tomakeit true.
Again, she nodded.
“Okay then,” Leo said, pushing away from the table. “Tomorrow at ten? Here?”
Philly pulled his gaze away from Callie’s and rose. “Tomorrow at ten,” he agreed.
19
“Do you want to grab an early dinner?”
The question caught Callie by surprise—something that rarely happened these days—and she jerked to a halt mid-climb into her car and stared at Gabriel.
“Never mind,” he said. “You can drop me back at the club.”
She took her seat and shut the door. Did she want to have dinner with Gabriel? Yes.Shouldshe have dinner with Gabriel? She didn’t know. The conversation from the night before still buzzed fresh and awkward between them. And while they might trust each other professionally, personally, well, that was another matter. He didn’t trust her—with reason—and that made her wary.
But did she truly have a reason to be wary? A real reason? One other than fear and her own lingering guilt? Gabriel had never been a vindictive kid. Not even when she sometimes wished he had been. What about the man?
Images of him with the Falcons flashed through her mind. Of the times she’d caught him laughing, a genuine smile on his face and in his eyes. Of him playing with Sherman, burying his facein the dog’s thick mane of hair. Of the way he stepped up to help first Juliana, then Lina.
She might regret it.Dinnermight be his way of lulling her into believing he’d forgiven their past, only to hit her with it when she least expected. But dammit, she wanted to eat with him. And he’d taken the vicious blows she’d delivered all those years ago and still made a life for himself. If he wanted to mete out whatever justice he needed, however he needed—even if it involved the pretense of a casual dinner—she’d take the hits. She’d learn her lesson and not be fooled again, but she’d take the hits.
“Dinner sounds good,” she said, knowing better than to mention that the offer had caught her by surprise. She didn’t need to bring emotions of any sort into the conversation. “The Boom?” she asked. The Dirty Boom, a casual burger and bar joint not far from HICC, seemed the safest non-date-like place to grab some great food and a local beer.
He hesitated, then nodded. “The Boom sounds good.”
They rode the short distance in silence, and it wasn’t until they’d placed their orders and the waitress delivered their drinks—hazy IPAs for both—that they spoke again.
“Do you mind if I ask a question?” she said.
Gabriel’s eyes flickered up to meet hers, and she didn’t miss the wary shadows in the corners. A beat passed. “Sure. I reserve the right not to answer, though.”
She nodded. “What happened to Matthew? My grandmother never told me. I’m not sure why. It seems like his death is something she would have told me.”
His gaze dropped to his drink, his fingers gently stroking the sides of the pint glass, drawing thick lines in the condensation. She thought about withdrawing the question, but instead let it sit between them. He’d reserved the right not to answer, andshe’d respect that if he chose that path, but she didn’t need to make the choice for him.
He took a sip of the IPA, then set the glass down. “Do you want the official version or what I think happened?”
She hesitated. “Both?” The death of a young person was never easy, but Gabriel’s question had her thinking Matthew’s was even more complicated, and she didn’t want to cause him more pain.
He dipped his head, his eyes back on his drink. “The official report states that he died of smoke inhalation when his house caught fire. According to the sheriff’s report, a log rolled out of the fireplace, caught a rug on fire, and the cabin, an old one, went up in less than five minutes.”
Callie’s stomach churned. She’d seen the aftermath of a fire or two, and the experience was one that still haunted her nightmares.
She took a sip of her drink, the cool hop-heavy liquid sliding down her throat. “And unofficially?”
Gabriel paused as the waitress brought their food. A burger for him and crispy chicken strips for her—a throwback to the childhood she never had.
“Do you remember Burt Woodley?”
She frowned. “The sheriff?” He nodded. “Knew of him.”
“He wasn’t a friend of your dad’s?”
She shook her head and picked at a fry. “He’s a bigot. Didn’t much like having the district attorney be a Black man.” She paused, then added, “If it weren’t for my dad’s skin color, I think they would have been good friends. You know, two men from the same school regarding ‘family values.’” Only not really. Rumor was Burt bullied his wife as well as his children, whereas her mother had been an active instigator of the misery inflicted on her and Daphne.
