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She’s excited for a moment, and then her smile dims. She glances at the men around me, as if she doesn’t believe they’d want her anywhere near any party I was throwing.
A baby shower. I’ve had so much on my mind that it never occurred to me. “A baby shower is a wonderful idea. I’ll organize something and message you a date and time. Will your parents be okay with you coming to Salvatore’s house?”
Nicole lifts her chin. “I don’t care if they don’t like it. My best friend is having a baby shower and I’m going.”
I grin and give her another hug. “Wonderful. I’ll see you soon.”
As we walk out to the cars, Salvatore says to me, “You want a baby shower? We can arrange that. Ginevra would love to be there.”
“And how about your pretty high school friends?” suggests Vinicius.
I haven’t seen Rosaline, Sophia, and Candace in months. “Yes, that’s a good idea. I’m sorry about today, though. We didn’t learn anything new about the killer.”
At Lorenzo’s car, I turn back and gaze at Nicole’s house. Her father is a broken man, but Nicole’s going to be just fine, I can feel it.
“Let’s go and eat at my house,” Salvatore offers. “We can order some party supplies and plan the shower.”
He’s offering this in order to take my mind off things, and I’m grateful. “I’d love that, thank you.”
We all drive over to Salvatore’s beautiful house and he and I sit together on the sofa with his laptop and order pastel-colored banners and paper napkins, and a beautiful cake in the shape of a teddy bear asleep under a fondant blanket.
Cassius orders Thai food, and Vinicius pulls my legs into my lap to massage my calves while we eat and watch the evening news.
I’m starting to drift off, thanks to the massage, the food, and the sheer exhaustion of several broken nights’ sleep when I hear a familiar name on the news. Christian Galloway is being interviewed about his healthcare policies.
“…as a former medical professional, I can say with authority that Coldlake’s hospitals need a complete overhaul.”
I sit up with a gasp. “Christian Galloway!”
The others turn to me in surprise. My heart is suddenly pounding hard in my chest.
“The other day Lorenzo and I were discussing who the killer might be. Someone prominent in Coldlake. Someone with a medical background, or maybe an artistic one. I’ve been racking my brain to remember people from Dad’s circle who match this description, and it’s just occurred to me. Christian Galloway.”
It’s not received by the others like the epiphany I was hoping it would be.
Salvatore frowns. “I thought we had established that your father was covering up for the murderer. He wouldn’t cover up for his opponent.”
I get to my feet and start walking up and down, rubbing my stiff lower back as I go. “But maybe he would! Listen, everyone’s always said what a terrible opponent Galloway is because Dad always beats him and Galloway has never passed him in the polls. What if that’s their intention? Dad has to have an opponent, so maybe he arranged for someone who would seem like he was putting up a good opposition but didn’t have Dad’s charisma or ability to inspire people? In return, Dad keeps Galloway’s serial killer secrets.”
It’s not much to go on, and I don’t have any evidence, but it’ssomething. It’s a possibility. The others are listening to me, and from their expressions, they seem to be at least considering the theory.
I keep walking up and down, thinking out loud. “I saw Galloway’s photo in Nicole’s living room. Her dad, my dad, and Galloway all went to high school together. They’re the same age and they’re from wealthy families. They might have some sort of secret friendship that goes back decades.”
“Good point,” Vinicius says. “I wonder if Galloway has any interesting data on his computers and devices. I’ll get Thane to look into him.”
Cassius’ expression is hopeful as he watches me walk back and forth across the room. “It’s the first time we’ve named a suspect. Do you all realize that?”
I give him a crooked smile, but the happiness I’m feeling that we might be getting somewhere is bittersweet. “It’s somewhere to start, at le—” I break off with a wince and put my hand over my belly.
Lorenzo gets to his feet and crosses the room toward me. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. The baby is demanding my attention.”
“Kicking?” Vinicius asks as Lorenzo cups my stomach with his tattooed hands.
“Like it’s in the Soccer World Cup,” Lorenzo says as he helps me sit down in an armchair.
Cassius leans over and places a palm on my belly. A moment later, he grins. “My son could play for Italy.”
