“What’s Geritol?”
“I don’t remember exactly,” Kiersten admitted. “My grandmother used to take them. It’s a pill. For old people.”
Piper ran a hand over her ponytail. “Just don’t give them the other diaries yet. And hide them somewhere safe, okay?”
“Why in the world—”
“Look, the woman who wrote those diaries didn’t feel safe leaving them laying aroundherhouse, did she? She had a reason for hiding them. We need to honor her wishes by keeping them safe, at least until we’ve read everything she has to say.”
Kiersten went silent for a moment, brow knitted in thought. “Fine. I won’t share the rest of the diaries until we’ve read every page. And I’ll keep them someplace safe.”
“Not in your underwear drawer.”
“But that’s—” Kiersten began.
Piper cut her off. “Put the diaries in a ziplock bag. Put the ziplock bag inside that big bag of birdseed you keep in your garage.”
Kiersten tilted her head. “Are you serious?”
“That’s what drug dealers do. It’s a very effective hiding place. Or I can keep the diaries at my house. But I do not want to turn them over to Chip and Richard ... at least not yet.”
Kiersten frowned. “I think this is overkill.”
Piper opened her mouth, then closed it again, struggling to find the words. “I don’t trust them.”
“Piper.” She arched a brow. “I can understand not trusting Chip. Or Trey. Anyone with teeth that white probably shouldn’t be trusted. But his eighty-something-year-old grandparents?”
“Yes, yes, I know.” Piper rubbed her forehead. “My therapist would not approve. But learning to trust doesn’t mean blindly trustingeveryoneall the time in every circumstance. It means using your discretion, your judgment. And in this situation, I say we proceed with caution and hold on to the diaries.”
“Fine. You’re the law enforcement officer. But you owe me a pan of brownies if it turns out that Margaret and Richard arenotactually geriatric MS-13 drug mules.”
“I will happily make you brownies if I’m wrong about all of this.”
“And I will happily eat them. If Reggie gives me permission.”
“Good,” Piper said. “Enjoy your weight training.”
“When was the last timeyouexercised?” Kiersten asked. “I mean, you’re one of those people who actually finds running therapeutic. And we’ve been working pretty hard. You deserve some time of your own too.”
Piper blew out a breath. “You’re right. Maybe I will go for a run.”
“How about this. When I finish with weight training, I’ll go to the library and dig through old newspapers to see if I can at least figure out the name of the car dealership Dottie’s father owned. That would give us her maiden name. From there, we might be able to find a wedding announcement and track down her married name. If she died recently, an obituary should turn up. And if she’s still alive, Google should be enough to help us find her.”
Piper crossed her arms. “Good idea.”
Kiersten leaned in and wrapped her in a hug. She went stiff. Kiersten would be absolutely perfect, if it weren’t for all thehugging.
“I’m sorry if I seem skeptical of your skepticism,” Kiersten said, pulling away. “But I respect your judgment. I really do. And if you want me to hide things in a bag of birdseed, I’ll do it.”
“I appreciate that,” Piper said.
Kiersten gave her a little salute, then darted across the street to Reggie’s house.
Kiersten’s words echoed in her mind as she changed into her running gear. There was an invisible line that separated casual acquaintances from true friends. Casual acquaintances told you what you wanted to hear, because it was easy. Real friends told you the truth, even when you didn’t want to hear it.
Kiersten had the courage to question her assumptions, to tell her she was being paranoid, and she was grateful for this.
But deep inside a little voice whispered what she had long known to be true. Sometimes paranoia really did mean that someone was genuinely out to get you.
