Page 107 of Terms + Conditions
“His father had been married previously—before a small stint with Justin’s mother in Washington—and returned to his previous wife in Florida, Juliet’s mother.”
“Their last names—”
“Justin was given his mother’s last name, not his father’s. There’s some discrepancy whether it is his father or not, but that’s not my business,” Ed says over his coffe mug. “So for all intents and purposes of this investigation, he is Justin’s father.”
Elizabeth fingers the family photo, gliding across the face of the young girl, before she looks up at Ed. “And where is Juliet now?”
“Juliet is dead.”
The coffee mug falls from my hands, flooding the table with brown liquid, and the restaurant falls into a hushed silence. All eyes are on us, and Holly rushes over with towels to stop the spread. Ed rescues the folder from drowning in the scolding liquid, and luckily, none had spilled over the edge, burning anyone’s lap. I offer Holly an apologetic smile, but she brushes me off. “Happens all the time. I’ll get you another one.”
Elizabeth waits until she returns with the fresh coffee to continue. “What do you mean she’sdead?”
“Unfortunately, she passed away last year. Cancer,” Ed says, pulling an obituary from the folder and laying it on the table. The top of it readsThe Wichita Tribune, a local newspaper in Wichita. I had picked one up while I sat in the cafe, waiting for her to show up last year. There’s a photo next to the write-up—it looks like her but doesn’t at the same time.
Juliet Sinclaire-Donovan, born September 16, 1991, passed away July 17, 2024,it reads. She died the day before we were supposed to meet.
“She moved around quite a bit after college, went by different names, got involved in some pretty bad stuff…She went to rehab in twenty-nineteen.”
“Rehab?” Elizabeth asks.
“Drugs—mostly cocaine and cannabis. Got arrested a few times for possession and once for trafficking.”
“And where was Brie during all of this?” I ask, finally looking up from the photo.
“The girl was placed in the care of Juliet’s parents until she was released from rehab and cleared by the court at the beginning of twenty-twenty.”
“Why wouldn’t they bring her to me? I’m her father. Why wouldn’t—”
“Are you?” Ed asks, his brow practically touching his hairline. My mouth falls open but closes almost immediately. The truth is, I don’t know for certain, but something tells me I already know the answer. “Have you done a paternity test already?”
“No,” Elizabeth answers.
“Do you know how many Joshua Davises there are in the world? I imagine starting a search for you was the last thing on the mind of those in charge of placing her somewhere. Placing her with Juliet’s parents was much easier than looking for you.”
“So, if Juliet is…dead,” Elizabeth says, tapping the obituary. “Are we housing a runaway right now?”
“There hasn’t been a BOLO issued, but I can’t say how long before there is one. Sources tell me she’s supposed to be back in Wichita at her best friend’s house. She’s been living with her uncle since her mother died—”
“Not her grandparents?” I ask.
“Grandfather passed away in twenty-two, Grandmother passed away earlier this year, and the girl was placed in the care of Justin.”
“The letter.” I scoff, meeting Elizabeth’s stare. “She must have known her time was limited; it’s why she wanted to meet.”
“So, what now?” Elizabeth asks, not even acknowledging what I said.
“I suggest confronting the girl. And then, I’d get in touch with Justin. Last thing you want is a runaway on your hands.”
Brie giggles as Finn taunts my sister about her poor cookie-decorating skills.
“For a designer, you’re not very good at this,” he continues as Elizabeth and I walk through the front door.
Elizabeth walks up the stairs without a word. The ride home was quiet, both of us processing everything we had just learned. I glance up the steps when I hear the bedroom door slam shut before peering into the dining room, where Michaela flips off her fiancé and stuffs the snowman cookie she had been decorating in his mouth to shut him up. As much as I want to get this conversation with Brie over with, I need to talk to Elizabeth first.
I find her in the bathroom, gripping the edge of the vanity. I wrap my arms around her waist, pull her body flush against mine, and kiss the back of her neck. She takes a deep breath and turns in my arms, clutching my sweater and burying her face in my chest. Before I know it, I can feel warm tears soaking through the material, and her body racks with a sob. Tightening my grip on her, I kiss the crown of her head and rub small circles on her back. This response surprises me. From her reaction at the restaurant, I thought she was mad, not upset.
When Elizabeth pulls away, she wipes under her eyes and sniffles. “She barely got her mother back before…”
