Page 66 of All the Little Truths

“He had money, she said, but he wasn’t a good guy.” Brewer made a pained face. “He was a good guy, but he came from a bad family. That’s what she said.”

“Did she tell you his name?” Additional confirmation would be helpful.

He shook his head. “I wish she had.”

“Did you talk to the police about this thirteen years ago?” She chose not to sayafter her murder. The man appeared sincerely aggrieved by the memories.

He shook his head. “They never questioned me. It wasn’t like I knew anything useful anyway.”

Finley let him off the hook without pointing out that it was often what a person didn’t say that mattered most. Instead, she passed her card across his desk. “Please call me if you think of anything else that might help us find the truth.”

Brewer nodded, studied the card. “I don’t think there’s anything else, but if I’m wrong, I’ll call you.”

Finley thanked him and exited his office and then the building. She wound her way around the lovely campus to her Subaru. Based onwhat she had learned from Ian Johnson’s friends and from Gwyneth Garrison, there was no denying the good guy from the bad family Brewer mentioned was Ian Johnson. If she found reason to push Brewer harder, she would. For now, she saw no reason to punish him for a mistake more people than not made during a criminal investigation. He hadn’t believed he had anything relevant to contribute, so he hadn’t come forward.

Finley had just backed out of her parking slot when her cell sounded off. The number looked vaguely familiar. She accepted the call. “O’Sullivan.”

“This is Natalie Williams. You’ve been trying to reach me.”

Wow. Gwyneth Garrison worked fast.

“Yes,” Finley said. “When might you have some time to speak with me?”

“How about now?”

“Text me the address, and I’ll be on my way.”

Davidson County Clerk’s Office

Second Avenue, Nashville, 1:20 p.m.

Natalie Williams was completely different from her very polished friend, Gwyneth Garrison. Never married. No kids. She wore a bulky green sweater with greenish trousers and white walking shoes. Her hair was tucked back into a braid that hung to the middle of her back. She was busy and made no bones about warning Finley that her time was limited. A vase brimming with fresh-cut pink flowers seemed utterly incongruent with the woman, but Finley supposed even the brashest person had a soft side.

The flowers also reminded her she had not ordered any for her neighbor. Damn it. Not enough time in the day ... or room in her brain.

“Lucy was ambitious,” Williams said as she picked through a stack of forms. “She intended to make a name for herself, no matter who she had to trample on to get it done.”

Beyond the ambitious part, this was a different story from what Garrison and Brewer had stated. Finley watched the woman’s face closely as she asked, “How do you mean?”

“I mean”—Williams paused in her work and stared at Finley—“she was using this guy—a way older guy—to get her research done. This was not a nice guy. Nor was he a guy who needed money. What do you suppose she was giving this guy for the information he passed along?”

Before Finley could stanch the reaction, blood was pounding in her ears. She could not be talking about Finley’s father. “Do you know his name?”

Williams shook her head. “She wouldn’t say. Just talked about him being hot and hard to resist—he was like in his twenties. But she had to stay focused. That was all she worried about.”

Finley breathed easier. Not her father. Ian Johnson, probably. As for Williams’s statement, there was some ring of similarity in terms of the ambition that Finley had already learned about, just without the selfish means and motive on Lucy’s part.

“Was she afraid of this man?”

“She didn’t act like it.” Williams leaned forward and spoke quietly. “They would have these secret rendezvous at a car wash, of all places. He would get in her car and tell her stuff while all the noise was blocking their conversation.”

Holy shit. The damned car wash. Finley checked off another confirmed lead.

“Did she say where this car wash was?”

“Not that I recall. Anyway, things kept getting hotter, and she was meeting him other times and places too.”

“Do you know if she planned to meet him on the day she was murdered?”

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