Page 36 of Fortune's Control
“It is, sort of.” Lainey’s voice weakened. “The villain is based on someone I used to know. I had a huge crush on him in high school. The kind of crush that leads you to write initials inside of a heart.” She made a heart shape with her fingers. “I mistook his friendliness for flirting.”
“What happened?”
“He wasn’t friendly or flirting, and I was an idiot not to see him for who he really was. In a way, I owe Alex a big thank you as he inspired a bestseller. But he moved away, never to return, and I hope he never does.”
Lainey shrank as she told her secret, and I knew it took courage for her to admit it. How much pain did this man inflict for her to write a book about him?
“I won’t tell anyone. Many people in this town have relationship secrets. Maybe we should check on Aiden Taggert next.”
She snorted, and her mood lightened. “He doesn’t have those.”
Everyonehas a secret.
An idea occurred to me. “You’re off tomorrow, right? Spend the day with me. We can use the pool and go to the Gator Tale for dinner.”
“Oh, I love it. Sunbathing and drinking. A perfect day.”
We hugged and said our goodbyes before I grabbed my bike from the rack. My car rested in Shane’s driveway, unused. It worked fine, but Fortune’s Creek’s small size made other forms of transportation convenient.
I walked through town, letting myself take in the downtown once more. The lack of parking spots told me antiquers were in town again. Groups wandered down the sidewalks. The eating area by the ice cream parlor had customers enjoying their vanilla cones and hot fudge sundaes.
My back itched as I pedaled. Unnerved, I braked and came to a stop. I cast around for the source, checking both sidewalks and the park for anyone suspicious. No one noticed me, but the sensation didn’t fade.
I checked the license plates, but none were from Georgia, and none of the men resembled him. I squeezed my eyes shut, and Sandy’s face floated before me. I took five slow breaths, and the itch faded. No one wore a black hoodie or an overgrown goatee. He wasn’t here.
My imagination needed to shut up.
Relieved, I climbed on my bicycle and rode home. No one followed.
*****
Shane suggested I use his house instead of the garage apartment. I refused to consider the idea then, and now it appeals to me. Shane’s presence made me feel protected; his home might do the same.
“You can keep Emma on the phone the entire time. Stop acting childish.”
I wouldn’t call Jack, preferring an evening alone to one spent in awkward silence with Shane’s best friend. Besides, Diane Jones hinted at his tragic backstory, and I already took the younger sister’s side.
I swung wide onto the long driveway, splaying my legs wide, and dodging from one side of the path to the other. Palm trees and oaks obscured the house until I drew up close and slammed on the brakes.
A dark house and empty driveway greeted me.
Relieved, I dropped my bike and ran to my apartment, locking the door behind me.
I opened my laptop to start a familiar routine. This time, I started north of Fortune’s Creek and found nothing in Atlanta’s local news or anywhere else in Georgia. Farther south, I got the same results. No updates on Sandy’s killer, and nothing about another woman in glasses found dead. It was ridiculous to believe a couple of coincidences meant I knew better than Detective Davis.
I checked the pictures buried deep in my suitcase. They were untouched, still folded in half, as I found them.
I stared at one taken the morning after Sandy’s murder. I wore the same clothes after my time at the police station and spending the night at Emma’s.
My one comfort was knowing they had already found and charged Wilson Skane.
I picked a business card from my wallet and smoothed back the bent tip. Detective Davis wrote his cell phone number for me the same night.
I dialed.
His grizzled voice, with its hint of southern flavor,greeted me. “Detective Davis here.”
“Hi. It’s Lilah. Lilah Mayberry. I’m checking for any recent developments. I know you said the boyfriend did it.” I squeezed my eyes shut and forced myself to ask the dreaded question. Saying it out loud made the danger more real. “Is it possible there’s someone else? Like a partner?”
