Page 27 of The One I Love

“I don’t know.” A deep wave of sadness washed over June. “He really liked Aubrey. I mean, I think they would have dated if she hadn’t died.”

“Do you think he was angry she went to the party without him?”

“You’re thinking he may have deliberately run her down?” June brought her hands to her head as a headache began to form.

“I don’t know, but how could he have hit her, then left her there alone in the dark and fog?” Cameron’s voice rose.

June pressed her lips together and fought to steady herself. “I don’t know the answer, Cameron. But I’m going to find out.”

“I’m going with you.”

“You don’t have to—”

“We’re in this together, Juin.” Cameron met her gaze. “I want to see it through.”

* * *

After swinging by the police station, where they’d learned today was Gary’s day off, June and Cameron headed to his home.

His two boys were in the front yard, shooting each other with foam pellets, when Cameron drove up and parked.

“Mommy isn’t here,” the oldest one called out when June and Cameron reached the walkway leading to the porch. “She went shopping with Gramma.”

“Is your daddy home?” June asked.

“He’s inside.” The older boy whirled and shot his brother, who was creeping up on him.

When the younger one melodramatically staggered back, both boys dissolved in giggles.

At any other time, such antics would have made her smile. Today, she strode grim-faced past the boys to the porch with Cameron at her side.

She rang the doorbell. Waited. When no one answered, she rang it again.

“What have I told you kids about ringing that bell—” Gary stopped short, then smiled when he saw them. “Sorry. The boys love to ring the bell and run. Drives me and their mom crazy.”

June said nothing as Gary pushed open the door and motioned them inside.

“Forgive the mess. We’ve got someone coming to refinish the floors tomorrow. I promised Lynn that while she and her mom are shopping, I’d get the furniture in this room moved.”

Staring at him, June wondered how she hadn’t seen it. She’d been so grateful when Gary had offered to help her, so thankful he’d been willing to take time out of his busy life. Now she saw it had been his way of making sure she never discovered the truth.

“I’m sorry I haven’t gotten you that report, June.” Gary lifted his hands, palms out. “Next week. I promise I’ll—”

“Don’t bother. Leon—the PI I hired—got it for me.”

His expression stilled, and his gaze turned watchful. “He did?”

“He did.”

“Good for him. Good for you.” Gary’s voice took on a casualness at odds with the muscle jumping in his jaw. “Anything interesting? Any possibilities?”

“None of the names of the registered owners of classic Impalas matched any of the partygoers.”

“That’s too bad. I was hoping—”

“Hoping what?” June inclined her head, her voice going cold. “That I wouldn’t notice your name on the list? Your garage doors are open. I don’t see your Impala.”

“I don’t own an Impala.”

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