“She’s a judge’s daughter, kind of a diva.” Michelle studied his face, and he smiled to avoid her scrutiny, to mask any residual pain that might be marking his features. “Do you want to grab a late lunch, compare notes?”
“Yeah, let’s compare notes.”
He steered her toward his buddy’s restaurant, Burgers and Brews, but she shook her head.
“I just can’t, I just…that’s where Amanda and I had dinner last night.”
“I’m sorry. Stupid of me to suggest it.”
“I know Bryan Sotelo’s your friend. I hope the macabre association doesn’t hurt his business.”
“In my experience, it tends to help a business—curiosity seekers.”
“Ugh. I don’t get that.” She pointed across the street. “The Great Earth is pretty good.”
He grabbed his throat and stuck out his tongue. “I don’t do vegetarian.”
“They have burgers and brews over there, too. Don’t worry. I won’t force you to eat alfalfa sprouts.”
Five minutes later they were ensconced at a corner table, and Colin was running his fingers down a short list of burgers. “The sweet potato fries sound good.”
“They are.” Michelle’s menu covered her entire face and she had a white-knuckled grip on its edges.
Colin tapped a finger on the top of the plastic menu. “Are you okay in there?”
She inched the menu down so that her big, brown eyes appeared over the top. “Everyone’s talking about the murder. I keep catching snippets of conversation, and people keep throwing me sidelong glances. Maybe I shouldn’t be out.”
“Stop.” He clapped the menu closed with his hands and she flinched. “Of course everyone’s gossiping about the murder. It’s a big deal for a small town. Remember when that girl disappeared a few years ago from the music festival? I even heard about that and I wasn’t living here.”
“I hate it.” She dropped her lashes, where they created dark crescents on her cheeks. “The gossip.”
“It’s a small town. And you have every right to be out for lunch. It doesn’t mean you mourn your friend any less.”
She grabbed a napkin and bunched it up at her nose. “I’m going to miss Amanda. You have to catch her killer, Colin. Amanda needs justice. She deserves justice.”
“Maybe the Coral Cove P.D. has already caught him.”
She snorted and then blew her nose. “You don’t believe that any more than I do.”
“Did the chief tell you about the blood on Chris’s shirt?”
“Huh?”
The waitress interrupted to take their orders, and as she scribbled her shorthand on her pad, she glanced up at Michelle. “I’m really sorry about Amanda. I know you two were friends and you were right there when it happened.”
“Thanks.”
“You take care of yourself.”
“See?” Colin touched the rim of his water glass to hers. “Nobody is blaming you or thinking you’re weird because you’re eating lunch.”
She blew out a breath and took a sip of water. “Who’s Chris?”
“Chief Evans didn’t tell you?” The cops who’d questioned him hadn’t exactly told him to keep mum about anything. He didn’t owe them, anyway. He owed Michelle. “Chris Jeffers is the name of the transient. He had a smear of blood on his sleeve.”
“Amanda’s?” Her eyes widened.
“They don’t know yet. They sent it out for testing and depending on how backed up the lab is, it could take a while for them to get the results.”
“But it’s something. Maybe you’re wrong, Colin.” She shot him an apologetic look from beneath her lashes. “Maybe Amanda’s murder was just a random act. I’m not saying the other two murders, Tiffany’s and Belinda’s, are random, but maybe Amanda’s death has nothing to do with those other women.”
His gut rebelled against her reasoning. Three women from the same high school class? Two with slit throats and all with rose petals? But his heart softened when he saw the hope shining in Michelle’s eyes.
She wanted to believe Amanda’s murder was a random act of violence. She wanted to believe she had nothing to fear from the same killer. And he didn’t want to dash that belief. Not now.
“Maybe.” He shoved their water glasses aside as the waitress brought their plates. “Now let me see if they snuck any alfalfa sprouts on my burger.”
Pointing to her salad, she said, “You can toss them on here if you find any.”
They ate in silence for several minutes, and then Michelle started shoving lettuce leaves around her plate.
“What’s wrong? Tired of rabbit food?”
“How’s the burger? Not too healthy for you?”
Chewing, he raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Just the right amount of grease. And these sweet potato fries are great. Have one.”
She picked a fry from his plate and twirled it around. “Colin. What happened to your brother in Afghanistan?”
He nearly choked on his water. Damn. He thought he’d escaped the inquisition. He blotted his mouth with a napkin, stalling for time. Of course he could take his usual route—stare down the questioner and grunt. But Michelle wasn’t some random nosy person on the street. She’d opened up to him about her past hurts and now she’d volleyed the ball into his court.
Isn’t that how relationships worked? Give and take. Not that he and Michelle had a relationship. They had more like a partnership. He’d keep her safe and she’d feed him information about her graduating class at CCHS.
Did he have to open up to a partner?
“Of course, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” She dropped the sweet potato fry onto her half-eaten salad and brushed her fingers together.
His eyes met hers. Tiny creases marred the smooth skin between her dark, sculpted eyebrows. She looked worried…worried about him.
He scooped in a breath and twisted the napkin in his lap. “My brother and I were both on the same intelligence-gathering team. We’d been watching a particular bunch outside of Kandahar. We made our move, but someone had betrayed us. They were ready for us.”
“What happened?”
“The Taliban killed a few of the team members and captured the rest of us, including me and Kieran.”
“I—I had heard something about that, later when you escaped.”
Colin’s heart hammered in his chest. He could never get past this part of the story with anyone, not even in his own mind. “I escaped. But Kieran didn’t. We’d planned our escape, but our captors chose that night to take Kieran away for questioning. I wanted to stay, but they had talked about moving us to a different location. The others convinced me, but I should’ve held out. I should’ve stayed with my brother.”
“Of course you couldn’t have stayed.” Her hand inched closer to his and then froze as his fingers curled into a fist.
“Is he dead?”
“No.” Colin smacked his clenched hand on to the table. “After we escaped, we went back for him, but, of course, the Taliban had pulled up stakes and moved on.”
“And you never…” Her fingers nervously pleated the tablecloth.