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“Believe me, I’m well aware. But that’s not what I mean.” Her face twitched, like she was smelling something bad. “I think she’s trying to break up our marriage.”
Jo didn’t hide her confusion. “Wasn’t she the one who broke things off with David? Didn’t she say if he hadn’t told her a bunch of lies about how bad your relationship was, she’d never have slept with him? Why go to all that trouble if she wanted him back?”
“That’s why I keep telling myself that it doesn’t make any logical sense.” She took a gulp of her wine. “But something inside me keeps screaming this is a way to keep close contact with David. Maybe she changed her mind about wanting him, and this is a convenient excuse. She called himtwicetoday.”
“What about?”
“The first time because you wouldn’t tell her what she wanted to know about her friend’s murder. Which I admit I sympathize with because if one of my friends had been murdered, I’d want details, too. But then she called back panicking about being alone.” She stared directly into Jo’s eyes. “I’ve known girls like that, Jo. They’re masters at manipulation, and they know how to get what they want while making you look crazy in the process.”
Jo nodded. “How do you know about the calls?”
“One of the things I told David I needed if we were going to try again was complete transparency. We have each other’s phone and computer passwords, and have a location tracking app so we always know where each other are. He also suggested that since he has to be in her life, he’d let me know exactly what was happening and why at all times.”
Jo nodded, keeping her neutral face on—if she showed any emotion, Sophie would see it as judgment—but she didn’t like that one bit. On the face it sounded like healthy communication, but it was rife for manipulation and abuse. What was Sophie supposed to say if he needed to talk to Chelsea or see her?No, don’t go take care of your child because the woman carrying it makes me jealous? It put the onus of acceptance on Sophie, making her the villain if she expressed her true feelings.
But, then, whatshouldDavid do? Keep what was happening from Sophie?
“If it helps,” Jo said, “Chelsea was right to be worried about Madison. Whether she’s milking it I can’t say, but finding out her pregnant friend was just abducted and murdered probably hasn’t been the best thing for her peace of mind.”
Sophie took a sip of her wine as she weighed that. “No, that wouldn’t be pleasant to go through. I’ve never felt as vulnerable as when I was pregnant. Except maybe now.”
Jo reached over and squeezed her sister’s arm. “Hang in there.”
Sophie clutched the pillow harder into her stomach. “I think that’s the problem, the ‘hanging in there’ isn’t finite. Her difficult pregnancy will only be the beginning. There will be midnight calls when she can’t stop the baby from crying, and scads of emergencies she doesn’t know how to handle. I already feel like I’m waiting to catch my breath and I’m just not sure that day will ever come.”
Jo sighed. Part of the life-long struggle of her relationship with Sophie was Sophie’s self-centered tendencies—something Sophie surely felt about Jo, as well. Bringing that up, however gently, was a minefield—but if the situation were reversed, Jo would want Sophie to be upfront with her.
“I realize this has been thrust upon you in a particularly ugly way,” she said. “But millions of people have to navigate exes and shared custody of kids from other relationships. It’s not pleasant, but you’re one of the strongest people I know.”
A brief half-smile flashed over Sophie’s face, which then quickly returned to a worried grimace. “I wonder what percentage of those involve the ex actively trying to destroy your relationship.”
“We don’t know that’s what’s happening, and there’s good reason to believe she’s just upset right now. You’re in a difficult situation that you’re already second-guessing, and this isn’t helping. If you’ve made the decision to let David back in, you may just have to put your trust in that.”
Sophie stared at the wall behind Jo’s shoulder, and sipped her wine. After a long, tense moment she said, “Only time will tell.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
Jo woke unsettled the next morning, anxious to dive back into the investigation. What she really wanted to do was track down the waitress from The Velvet Volcano, but she couldn’t risk alienating her. Instead, she dumped an extra shot of espresso into her travel mug and headed out to HQ.
Arnett wasn’t in yet when she arrived and her messages were frustratingly empty, so she clicked on her monitor. First things first—the most recent significant other. She dove into Kiernan Wendiss’s alibi and background by requesting the video footage from the library. They also immediately checked his student ID swipes; the records verified his claims, as did records of material requests from just before ten and again at two in the afternoon. All well and good, but until she saw his face on the video footage, she couldn’t be sure someone else hadn’t used his card, or that he’d slipped in and out of an exit-only door. Jo’d seen one too many friends during her teen years sneak into movie theaters via one-way exits to ever fully trust them.
His background was clean; not so much as a parking ticket, and both the university and the pizza parlor where he worked confirmed his good standing and reliability. Of course, countless killers had glowing recommendations from unknowing friends, family members, and colleagues.
She switched gears to Brad Pratt, who worked as a teller at Citizens Bank. He had no criminal records, but Jo found another Lucifer Lost article where Brad credited the group with helping him ‘clean up his act.’ He’d been a troublemaker in high school, he told the interviewer, because he felt misunderstood. Once he discovered the freethinker approach of Lucifer Lost he realized what he was really rebelling against was the repression of traditional religions. Since Jo couldn’t find any record of that troublemaking, it was either confined to school-based discipline, a sealed juvenile record, or he was making it up for a good story.
Her phone rang; the display identified the number as Springfield PD. “Jo Fournier.”
“Detective Fournier, this is Senior Captain Ben Silva. I received your call about The Velvet Volcano. My understanding is you’re inquiring about any active investigations we have relating to the establishment?”
“Yes.”
“I did a double-check on this, and can’t find anything active,” Ben said. “It’s a relatively new club, so that’s not necessarily surprising. In terms of organized crime, we don’t have anything ongoing. Suspiciously off the radar, in fact.”
Arnett arrived at his desk and set a large Starbucks in front of her.
“My partner just walked in. I’m going to put you on speakerphone.” Jo hit the button, then picked up where she left off. “We got the impression that’s exactly what they were trying to do, fly under the radar.”
“Ye-ah.” Silva drew out the syllable. “Despite our best efforts, the battle with mafia in Springfield rages on. Sounds like it’s time to add The Velvet Volcano to our watch list. I’d be interested to hear about anything else you learn.”
