Rory led the way to the kitchen. Like the rest of the house, it was really small, with a table and four chairs in the center. She pulled out a chair and sat. Chance did the same on the other side of the table. No matter that she was well aware of all the steps the agency intended to take, and she was prepared to work with this investigator. Her nerves were jangling.Deep breath. Stay calm and focus.
He slid open the zipper on his soft-sided briefcase. “I realize this is all happening fast.” He removed a file folder and placed it on the table, then tucked his briefcase into an empty chair. “You just got home, and I’m sure your head is spinning. But it’s important we move quickly. We want to stay ahead in this investigation.”
“I understand.” She clasped her hands in her lap. At least this go-around she wasn’t alone. Wait, that wasn’t fair. Last time Austin and Lulu had been firmly on her side. The two had been with her every step of the way. No question. But this time she had real experts on her side. It would, she hoped, make all the difference.
Part of her resisted holding out any sort of hope. She waffled between believing the effort was pointless and futile and daring to hope exposing the truth was possible. She wanted that truth found. She really did. More for Pete than for herself. Certainly for Austin. If she was finally free again, that was just the icing on the cake.
Chance opened the file folder and showed her the top page. It was a bullet list. She scanned the words there.
“This,” he explained, “is a list of what I hope to accomplish with you. It’s not written in stone and is absolutely open to any change you feel needs to be made. But it’s a basic map of what we need to do.”
Rory scanned the list, her gaze stopping on one point in particular. Her stomach knotted along with her fingers. She moistened her lips. “I’ll be honest, I’m not thrilled about going back to the scene.”
“I understand.” His eyes told her he meant the words. “But it’s important that we make sure nothing was missed.”
“But it’s been over two years.” What he was suggesting seemed a total waste of time.
“It has been a long while, but that doesn’t mean we might not find something the others missed. It happens years after in some cases. Evidence that was missed has been found twenty years after an event. In some cases, even longer, I’m sure. We don’t want to overlook any possibility. Plus, there is always the possibility that a new memory will be prompted.”
She nodded. “Okay.” Rory’s dread wasn’t going to be the reason this effort failed. However difficult it was, she would do whatever necessary.
“You and I will go over everything you recall from the days and weeks prior to what happened. We’ll talk to people—or try to.”
“I won’t hold my breath on getting anywhere with anyone who might have information about that night. But we can try.” Shethought of Shane and what he’d said. “Just before you arrived, Shane Carter, Pete’s cousin, stopped by. He’s a county deputy now. He told me some folks might be more open to my side of the story. But we’ll see.”
“You have his number?”
She nodded. “He said I could call anytime.”
“Do you trust him?”
There was the real question. She might as well get this part over with. She unknotted her hands and forced her body to relax. She looked directly at the man who had been sent to help her. He seemed like a very nice man. Brown hair, neatly trimmed. Thick and full. Deeper brown eyes. Kind eyes. Handsome for sure—as she had noticed before. He was exactly what her mind might conjure when she thought about young private investigators and detectives in the movies or in books. And based on his agency’s reputation, there was every reason to believe in his work and to trust him. Except…she couldn’t.
“I have a problem with trust.” She looked away a moment. “Since that night and then the trial, I was so let down. So disappointed. I feel like I can’t trust anyone.” She met his gaze once more. “I recognize your agency’s reputation, and by extension, yours is reliable— outstanding to say the least. Because of that, I will cooperate fully with you. I will do all possible to try and prove I’m telling the truth. I’ll defer to your lead as we go. But right now, I just can’t trust anyone.” She searched his eyes for understanding. “Not even you.”
He smiled—which surprised her. Crossed his arms and braced them on the table. “Rory, after what you’ve been through, I would be stunned if you trusted me. We will work together to get the job done—just as you said. But I don’t expect anything more. At any time if you feel overwhelmed or worried, maybe scared, all you have to do is say so. I’ll stop whatever I’m doing, and we’ll work it out. You have my word.”
Air filled her lungs, and she realized she had been holding her breath. “That works.”
“Good. Remember, this is not only about you, but alsoforyou. I’m just the guy doing the legwork. Now, I’m leaving all this with you.” He pushed the folder toward her. “You’ll see the ways we want you to look back on what happened. You’ll be surprised how many more details come to you if you look back from a different perspective. Even when it feels futile, it’s important that you try. We understand how difficult it is, but it’s crucial that you give it your best shot.”
She glanced at the manila folder. “All right.”
“I’ve booked a room at the motel just down the road where Tupelo Pike intersects with Willow Street.”
Rory knew the one. A little low-rent, but it was the closest to her. She supposed that was his reasoning for the choice. “I know the place.”
“Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything at all. If there’s trouble, you call me first, then 9-1-1.”
For the past couple of days, she wasn’t sure what she had expected. But this worked surprisingly fine. Felt far more relaxed than she had expected.
“I can stay and walk you through what you’ll find in the folder,” he offered, “but what I really want is for you to read everything over and see what comes to mind without any outside expectations or suggestions.”
“I understand.”
He stood. “All right then.” He grabbed his briefcase. “I’ll get out of your hair, and I’ll pick you up for breakfast in the morning. Seven thirty sound okay to you?”
“Sure.” A new kind of anticipation lit inside her. This was really happening.
