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I shrugged. "Fletcher always taught me to avoid collateral damage. To focus on my target, hit that person, and not involve anyone else before, during, or after my crime. I know that Jillian dying wasn't my fault - not really - but I still can't help but feel responsible for it all the same. "
She nodded. "I can understand that. But this is Ashland, Gin. People get hurt all the time in this city. You can't save everyone. "
I'd told myself that more than once, but it still didn't keep me from waking up in the middle of the night, the image of Jillian's shattered face fresh in my mind, and me fighting the sheets twisted around my body, as if I could save her if only I could get free of them.
"McAllister would have still hired Clementine to rob the museum whether you'd been there or not," Bria continued. "Maybe Jillian would have gotten caught in the crossfire and still died. Maybe it would have been someone else. There's no way of knowing. "
"Or maybe nobody would have died," I countered. "Maybe if I'd realized what Clementine and the others were up to, I could have stopped them before things got so out of hand. "
Bria reached over and squeezed my fingers, telling me that she understood my troubled, turbulent thoughts. We were silent for a few moments, then she let go of my fingers and leaned back. She gestured at the cake stand that featured the dessert of the day: a peach pie.
"Is there any chance of me getting a slice of that?" she asked. "And maybe a few other vittles to whet my whistle with?"
I grinned. Bria knew that cooking always helped take my mind off my troubles, and asking for the food was her way of trying to lighten my mood. "Sure thing, baby sister. One fine meal, coming right up. "
Bria ordered a burger topped with spicy chili and sharp cheddar cheese, onion rings, potato salad, and a vanilla bean milkshake to go with her slice of peach pie. I moved back and forth behind the counter, grilling the burger and dropping the batter-dipped Vidalia onions into the french fryer to crisp up. Sophia stopped slicing buns long enough to put the ice cream, milk, and a splash of vanilla syrup into the blender to make the shake.
A few minutes later, I set Bria's plates in front of her, and she dug into her meal. As she ate, she caught me up on the latest developments regarding McAllister.
"I still can't believe they let him out on bail," Bria said. "Even if it was three million dollars. At least the judge agreed to make him wear a tracking anklet so there's less chance of him skipping town before his trial. It's been set for later this year. "
She dragged half of an onion ring through the ketchup on her plate and popped it into her mouth. "Although I have to wonder if he'll actually live long enough to make it to trial. "
Despite the plethora of crimes in Ashland, the court system actually moved along at a fairly quick pace. Normally, there were never that many cases on the docket, since most folks who committed said crimes were usually found toes-up before their trial dates. Revenge was a bitch, especially in Ashland. Justice wasn't blind here so much as it was swift - and permanent.
"Even if he does go on trial," she continued, "there's always the chance that he could walk. It's not like judges and juries haven't been bribed before in this city, and McAllister knows how to work the system better than anyone. "
"Well, if McAllister pulls that particular rabbit out of his hat, I may have to revisit my original plan for him. "
Bria took a drink of her milkshake and looked at me. "You really think all the news stories about McAllister and the museum heist will bring Mab's relative to Ashland?"
I shrugged. "It can't hurt. The will was made public, what, two days ago? If I were in line to inherit all those millions, I'd be making a beeline to town lickety-split. "
Worry tightened her pretty face. She fiddled with the primrose rune around her throat a moment before dropping her hand and twisting around the two rings that she wore, the ones with snowflakes and ivy vines carved into them. "Who do you think this person is? Do you think he or she is anything like Mab?"
I knew what she was really asking - if Mab's relative was going to be as big a threat to us as the Fire elemental herself had been.
I'd gone over it a thousand times in my mind, but the truth was that I had no way of knowing. Maybe this person would take Mab's money and go back to wherever he or she had come from. Maybe he or she would stick around in Ashland and live the high life. Or maybe the heir would be just as cruel and power-hungry as Mab had been. But the carrot had been dangled out there. Now all that was left to do was to see who snatched it off the stick.
"I don't know," I said. "But no matter what happens, we'll be ready for M. M. Monroe, and we'll face him or her down - together. "
She nodded. "That we will. "
Bria finished up her food. One of the other diners needed a refill on his water, so I left my sister at the counter while I moved through the restaurant and made sure that everyone had everything they needed. I had put the pitcher of water down and was sliding back onto my stool when the bell over the front door chimed. I looked past Bria, wondering who my latest customer might be.
To my surprise, Owen strolled into the Pork Pit.
Chapter 34
Owen must have left work for the day, because he wore a light gray suit and a pair of polished black wing tips, although he'd already taken off his tie and unbuttoned the top of his white shirt.
My eyes traced over him from head to toe, drinking in the sight of him. We hadn't talked since that night at Briartop. I'd thought about calling Owen a dozen times, but I didn't know what to say to him, especially since his friend was dead because of me. Even if it had been a cruel twist of fate. I'd hoped that he might call, but he hadn't, and I hadn't seen or heard from him - until now.
Bria noticed me staring over her shoulder and turned to see who I was looking at. After a moment, she swiveled back around to me. "I take it that you and Owen are still up in the air?"
I grimaced. "Something like that. "
"You should go talk to him. "
