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“The whole island knows,” Jeremy returned.
Alana stiffened. “Yes, well.” How could she possibly explain? “Julia and I have reason to believe that there was foul play in my father’s criminal case.”
“Hmm.” Jeremy stared somewhere past Alana, toward the back alley of the furthest file cabinet.
“Of course, we don’t know anything for sure,” Alana added. “But it feels like something we need to investigate, if only for our own peace of mind.”
Jeremy finished his cookie and crossed his arms over his chest. After a long and terrible pause, he said, “I’m in the process of going through the paperwork that your sister filled out.”
Alana’s heart cracked. “Is there any way you could speed up that process?”
Jeremy stood up, stretching his legs slightly as he went. Probably, the pain from his old injury inched its way through his brain.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Jeremy told her stiffly.
Alana didn’t believe him. Not in the slightest. She took a step back, realizing that maybe, Marcia Conrad and Asher Tarkin would win every game they wanted to play while she and Jeremy lurked in a basement, unwilling to work together.
“Well. I’ll let you get back to work, then,” Alana whispered, unwilling to look him in the eye any longer.
She turned on her heel (an expensive Louboutin, not that it mattered) and headed back for the staircase. When she reached the first step, Jeremy spoke.
“I am sorry about that man you married.”
Alana remained frozen, unsure if she’d heard him correctly.
“He seems like a real piece of work,” Jeremy added.
Alana’s throat nearly closed up. She blinked several times, begging herself not to cry. After too much silence had passed, she rushed up the staircase, embarrassed that she hadn’t thanked him for what he’d said. But maybe nothing could be said, not after so much life had happened.
Back in the foyer, Jane blinked at her with enormous, confused eyes. “Can I help you with something?” she asked.
Alana shivered, clutching her elbows as she walked. “No, thanks.”
“Did you have an appointment with Mr. Farley?” Jane demanded.
Alana’s smile twisted. “I did. But I was late. Really, really late.”
Jane furrowed her brow as Alana rushed the rest of the way to the front door, where she cast herself out onto the hot sidewalk. You could have a fried an egg on it, an expression her father used to say.
Maybe there was no hope for any of them, except to find a way to keep going.
