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Downey tucked her hair behind her ears. “I have no idea. I can only tell you that she broke every date we planned. Never returned my calls. It was like she was obsessed with someone new. One of our other friends thought maybe she had a new boyfriend. I really don’t know. I only know that she ghosted me before ghosting was a thing.”
“Who were her other close friends?” It never hurt to get a second or third opinion.
“Gwyneth Larson—Garrison now. Also, there’s Natalie Williams.”
Finley nodded. “How long were the two of you best friends?”
“Since before we were toddlers. Our parents were friends and colleagues, so we spent a lot of time together.” She blinked rapidly, then stared out the window into the lackluster view of a parking garage. “Maybe we grew tired of each other or outgrew each other.” She shifted her gaze back to Finley. “Lucy was a wonderful young woman, but she was driven. I was—still am—but not like Lucy. She was very much like Louise. She would have done anything to accomplish her goal. I suppose I weighed her down with my reticence.”
The stark emotion that had stolen onto Jessica’s face underscored the painful truth in her words.
“I appreciate your honesty,” Finley said. “I’m certain that no matter your differences, you want to see her killer brought to justice.”
“Of course.” She cleared the emotion away. “But the way I hear it, your firm is representing the wrong side.”
“I’m looking for the truth,” Finley assured her. “I intend to find it.”
“I hope you do find it, really I do.”
Finley decided one more push was in order. “You don’t recall anything that might help with the investigation into her murder? A name she may have mentioned. Something she did that was not normal for her.”
For a beat, then two, Jessica didn’t respond. Finally, she said, “I followed her once. When she blew me off. She met with an older man.” She glanced away, cleared her throat. “Someone around our parents’ ages.”
The idea that she was likely talking about Finley’s father made her ill.
“After she died, I was sick that I hadn’t told anyone about what I saw. Finally, I broke down and told my mother. But she told me not to worry. The man I had seen was helping Lucy with a project. He wasn’t the one who hurt her.”
Shaking inside despite her best efforts, Finley retrieved a business card and passed it to the other woman. “I hope you’ll call me if you think of anything else that might be useful in my search for the facts.”
Jessica studied the card, then nodded. “I will.”
Finley thanked her and left the office. She managed to keep her emotions to herself until she was in her car and driving away. Then she screamed.
Maureen Downey had known about Finley’s father, and she hadn’t said a word.
Was there one damned person in all this that she could really trust?
Apparently not.
11
Five Points Diner
Woodland Street, Nashville, 12:30 p.m.
Bart O’Sullivan had chosen this particular diner because the music was loud and it was off the beaten path. More importantly, they weren’t likely to run into anyone who recognized either of them.
Bart scanned the tables in the country-style diner. He spotted Maureen and headed in her direction. Menus and sweating water glasses waited on the table.
“Good to see you.” He pulled out a chair and sat down. It wasn’t actually good. He was well aware this was about Finley and the investigation. God almighty, to have lived through this nightmare once was bad enough.
“I wish I could say the same,” Maureen snapped as she waved down a waitress. “You eating?”
Bart shook his head. “No thanks. I’ll just have the water.”
He couldn’t possibly eat. Not if his life depended upon it. He waited patiently while she ordered a Cobb salad with dressing on the side. When the waitress had gone, Maureen settled her attention on him once more. “Your daughter came to see me.”
He restrained his irritation. Being unkind wouldn’t help anyone. “I wondered about your source, since you published that tidbit about her potential run for DA.”
