Page 29 of 4th Silence
She stares at the ceiling and fiddles with her pencil. “Honestly, part of me believes it could work. He makes me laugh. He sees the world in colors I never notice. But marriage? Jerome can barely commit to a simple breakfast order.”
“What scares you more?” I ask softly. “That he’s not ready, or that you’re not?”
She jams the end of the pencil into the pad. “I…I don’t know if I’m built for that life, Charlie. This whole settle-down thing. What if, in five years, I wake up feeling suffocated? Or what if he does?”
“There are no guarantees, but I’ve seen the way you look at him when you think nobody’s watching. Why does it have to be marriage? What if you just try living together?”
“I don’t know. This whole thing confuses me.” She chuckles. “God, listen to me. Your relationship with JJ just collapsed, and here I am, whining over commitment.”
“Hey,” I say firmly, “my romantic disaster doesn’t invalidate what’s going on with you. We’re both allowed to be messy sometimes.”
That draws a genuine laugh. “The Schock sisters—screwing up their professional and private lives in one fell swoop.”
“Whatever you decide with Jerome, I’m in your corner. Even if it means helping you escape out a bathroom window on your wedding day.”
Her smile wavers. “You’d do that for me?”
“I’ll bring the getaway car and snacks.”
The files lay scattered around us, briefly forgotten reminders of official restraints now closing in on our investigation. Yet, in that moment of sisterly support, those obstacles feel less insurmountable.
Still, JJ’s order has become a ticking clock. I gather a pile of papers to start running through our copier, the FOIA rules be damned. “Mallory’s confirmation is huge.”
Meg rolls up the sleeves of her white shirt, sorting through photos with habitual precision. “This could be the lead we need.”
I tap my finger against my bottom lip. “We need to trace the bag’s journey. Who might have seen it after the murder?”
Meg’s eyes light up. “What about the event staff? Catering, the cleanup crew—someone might have noticed it.”
“Good thinking,” I agree, thumbing through a file until I locate the list of service personnel. “I can have Haley track these people down tomorrow. Seeing as how it was thirty years ago, it’s a long shot, but it’s better than nothing.”
“Do you think the murder was planned or a spur-of-the-moment thing?” Meg asks.
“Premeditation points to someone at the event, not a random break-in gone wrong, but it could still be a random act. Someone got mad at the girl, a game got out of hand. Might have even been an accident.”
“Whatever happened, it’s been covered up. What if Mary had already sold off the bag or pawned it?” Meg asks. “I think we should talk to the daughter. I can do it—she doesn’t know who I am. I can say I overheard her talking about it, and I’ve always wanted one.”
“Nah. That’s a job for Matt and his pretty blue eyes. I’ll sic him on the woman tomorrow and let him come up with some story to get her to tell him about it.”
Before we can continue brainstorming, my phone rings. I snatch it up, half hoping it’s JJ calling to apologize. It isn’t.
“Charlie, hey. It’s Alex Hartman.”
My brows shoot to my hairline. I put the call on speaker for Meg. “Alex. This is… unexpected.”
“I want to apologize for my reaction at the gala.” His voice is stripped of its earlier arrogance. “I was out of line.”
Meg’s expression mirrors my surprise.
“I thought about what you said,” he continues. “About Tiffany deserving justice, regardless of political fallout. My mother believes you’re doing it for the notoriety. I know better. I want…” He clears his throat. “I want to help. I might have some useful connections that could prove beneficial.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “We’ve been officially ordered off the case.”
“I know.” He doesn’t sound daunted. “Which is why I thought you could use an ally who knows all about the family and our friends. One who was there that night. I was only nine, but some of those folks are still around.”
I can’t believe our luck. It’s too lucky. Time to test his loyalties—with his family, his job, and especially his mother. “We’re trying to track down any clue that could lead us to a missing Sherman bag your mother received as a gift that Christmas Eve. Do you remember it?”
“Uh…no. Like I said, I was nine. Purses weren’t of interest to me.”
