“I know. I’m so sorry, Nicole. I did refer Lacey to a somewhat decent public defender in the state. Figured you’d have a hard time finding someone willing to take her case. He said he would take it. Sean Holt. He’ll call soon.”
I wanted to scream. But it wouldn’t change a thing. This was as far as Nolan was going right now. As far as hecouldgo.
“Thank you,” I said and hung up.
“Not good, huh?” Brian asked.
“Well,” I said slowly, my thoughts racing in every direction. Something wasn’t right here. This Myers and his friend needed to be looked into more. “Your old buddy,” I said to Brian as an idea formed in my head. “The one who works at the DMV. Maybe you could ask him to do you a favor?”
“What?” Brian shook his head. Lost.
“I mean, I need the address of this man from the trailer.” The words rushed out of me, fast and certain. “I have the number of the plate, just not the address. I feel like if I could talk to this man myself—”
“Nicole, stop,” Brian said.
“No, wait.” I insisted.“Hear me out. This Myers from the footage—even if Detective Nolan didn’t get much out of this, there’s more to it. I know it. And we can find out.”
“Nicole. Stop!”
“I mean, people don’t talk to cops. Especially not if your friend committed a crime with your truck.”
Brian threw his head into his hands, shaking it wildly.
“Call your old friend. God, what was his name…Nick? Ask him if he still works for the DMV. You let him borrow money during his divorce, remember? That guy’s license plate is MA443FD. If we can get the address and talk to this guy, it can help us find the real killer and—”
“What if she did it?” he snapped, cutting me off. Tears welled up in his eyes. He looked so tired. So broken.
“Wh-what?” I mumbled, thunderstruck. My mind went blank. Shock. I was in total shock.
Brian shrugged. Red eyes glossy. “What if she did it?” he repeated, voice shaking.
I stood in stunned silence. This man— After everything Lacey had done for him, he showed no backbone. No loyalty. Nothing.
“I mean,” he rambled on, taking advantage of me being frozen like an animal caught in headlights. “All the evidence says she did. There are no other footprints. No DNA but hers. Everybody says she did it.” He threw his hands up as he broke down. “So maybe she fucking did! Maybe Lacey fucking killed Zach!”
His trembling hand reached into his pocket and pulled out a flask. He took a long sip. Something about the motion felt unreal, like a shitty scene from a bad movie.
“Remember her pet hamster? Skibby?” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as a bit of liquor slipped out.
My head jerked back. I didn’t see that coming. “Skibby?”
“Yeah. Fucking Skibby. Remember what Lacey did to him? In the backyard?”
“You’re drunk,” I growled. Furious.
“Oh yeah? Am I? Because I remember all too well when I came over to ride our bikes and saw Lacey bash Skibby’s head in with a rock. Not just once. But over and over. Until the poor little thing was nothing but a ball of bloody fur. So what if she did Zach just like she did Skibby back then? What if she really was jealous of Amanda, just like the cops say? The kids love Amandaalmost as much as they love her. Zach had all this money, and God knows Lacey and I weren’t doing so good.”
“What a bunch of horseshit!” I barked, not even bothering with that jealous-of-Amanda nonsense. “Skibby had been sick with cancer for weeks! Couldn’t walk. Could barely eat. He was in so much pain that he squeaked every time he moved. Lacey did it to relieve him of pain. She’d seen your dad do the same thing for a raccoon he’d hit on the road. Lacey couldn’t stand hearing Skibby squeal anymore. We’d tried to put him down, but the vet was on vacation that week. So she took matters into her own hands. After she told me about it, we buried him under the rosebush with flowers. She cried for weeks over that hamster. It broke her heart. That same big heart that forgave you when she saw you and Amanda—”
“You piece of shit!” Dylan’s voice thundered before I could finish my sentence. Brian and I spun around to the doorway. Dylan stood there, trembling, fists balled tight. His shoulders squared as he stepped forward. Right in front of Brian. Eye to eye. Dylan over six feet. Brian barely taller than him at six four.
Dylan pushed his face into Brian’s. Provocative. Alive with rage.
“What did you just call me, boy?” Brian’s words slurred a bit, but his tone was sharp. He straightened his spine, squared his shoulders, and closed the last few inches between them until they were nose to nose.
I jumped forward, trying to wedge myself between them. “Stop it.”
“I called you a piece of shit,” Dylan repeated, ignoring me entirely. “Or do you prefer worthless drunk? Coward? Traitor? Or how about cheater?”
