“Not necessarily,” I say. “Helene is of the belief that when things look too good to be true, they generally are, starting with Carlton being good and truly dead before she could talk to him again.”
“So Helene doesn’t think old Carlton is the one who took those girls?” Tay asks.
“She frankly thinks Roof and Lynyrd are the ones who took them, even with the victory lap they keep taking around town,” I say. “Kidnapped the girls, killed Carlton, planted that evidence.”
Taylor takes a sip of her coffee. “Can she prove any of that?”
“She cannot.”
“You think the girls are alive somewhere, Silas?”
“Helene is convinced that they are,” I say. “And that’s good enough for me.”
Taylor is looking out the window now. I’m looking at her in repose, hair pulled back into a ponytail and looking every bit the part-time college girl she is, everything that has happened to her lately more fit for a novel than a teaching textbook.
I think:She’s as tough as her husband was.
Maybe tougher.
It’s another thing I’m smart enough not to share with her as she continues to put her life back together, one small piece at a time.
“Tell me we’re going to find them,” she says, turning back to face me across the table.
I know we’re not talking about the girls any longer.
“We’re going to find the ones who shot him, yes,” I say quietly. “Unless the police find them first.”
Her eyes are locked on mine.
“I want it to be us,” she says. “That’s my dream.”
“About a nightmare.”
“Which won’t be over until we find them.”
“I think about the same thing, Tay,” I say. “All the damn time. But if there’s even a chance that it goes down that way, it needs to be me whotakesthem down. Or out. I would never let you anywhere near that kind of danger.”
She’s still staring at me, hard.
“Let me give you a quote from a friend of mine on that,” she says quietly. “Best friend I’ve ever had, actually, one currently letting me lean on those big shoulders of his more than I ever have.”
I wait.
“What have I got to lose?”
My only answer to that is to get up and walk over to the frontregister and pay our check. When I come back, I leave a stupidly big tip on the table.
But I briefly sit back down.
“I want to tell you something I haven’t told anybody else yet, not even EJ,” I say, “and I suppose now is as good a time as any.”
I take in a deep breath, then a second.
“I might be going away for a little bit.”
“Going where?” she says, her voice still low. “And to do what?”
“Play football.”
