The Row(66)

He shifts to face me and bangs his knee against the dash, wincing. “For knocking on your window? I didn’t even try to sneak up on you. You just weren’t paying attention. This is hardly fair.” Then he reaches to the far side of his seat, finds the right lever, and the entire seat shoots all the way back.

Jordan stretches out like a cat and then smiles. “Much better.”

I turn the key and put the car in gear.

He grabs for his seat belt and raises his eyebrows at me. “So, you’re sure about this?”

“Not even a little bit.”

My phone rings next to me, the number unknown, so I answer it.

“Hello.”

“Hello, Miss Riley.”

“This came up with an unknown number instead of your normal one,” I say.

“Yes, sorry about that,” Mr. Masters says quickly. “Just trying to be cautious. I may get you a different phone to use for a while as well.”

“Is that really necessary?” Jordan asks when there is a pause in the conversation.

I sigh at the silence on the other end. “Sorry, I should’ve mentioned. Jordan is here with me.”

Mr. Masters speaks directly to Jordan this time. “Don’t dig up more snakes than you can kill, Mr. Vega. You’ve seen the evidence in this case. If we assume that the killer is, in fact, not in jail already and he or she finds out that you two are poking around, which of the three of us most resembles one of his victims?”

Jordan’s eyes widen and dart over to me before he swallows hard. “Fair enough.”

I frown and try not to show the sudden biting chill that slithers down my spine. “I’m not even blond, and I’m too young—not his type.”

“No, but sometimes anyone who’s in the way will do just fine.” Mr. Masters’s voice lowers and he waits for his words to sink in. “In all your haste to find your truth come hell or high water, you should try to remember that and be careful.”

I don’t say anything until Jordan gives me a pointed stare and I roll my eyes. “Noted.” Then I decide to change the subject. “I’ve learned some new information. I’m not sure if you already know about it.”

“What did you find out?”

I open my mouth to answer, but then hesitate. Everything Mama told me still feels so raw and personal, it’s hard to make myself repeat it.

Mr. Masters doesn’t seem to need an explanation for my reluctance. “Miss Riley, now isn’t the time to start chewing your bit.” His tone is kind, but there is a slight edge of impatience behind it.

Jordan watches scenery outside his window, but when I glance his way, he meets my eyes and gives me the tiniest nod of encouragement.

“Okay.” I speak up. “I’m not sure if this has anything to do with Daddy’s case, but I found out something about my parents last night.”

I can hear Mr. Masters frown through his voice. “Like?”

“It’s about an accident Mama was in.” I listen for a reaction, but there is none. “Apparently she was twenty-three weeks pregnant at the time. The baby—my brother—died in the accident and it doesn’t sound like Daddy took it well.”

Mr. Masters’s voice sounds distant when he says, “Thank you for telling me. Anything else?”

“Yes. I talked to Mama about the affair, but apparently she thought I was talking about his affair with Stacia, not Hillary.” I hold my breath, but everything on the other end sounds calm, no reaction. I’m not sure if that means he already knew or that he can hide his surprise well. I decide to just come out and ask. “Did you know about that?”

“I suspected.” His voice is cold and hard. It’s so strange to hear from him. “You’ve been busy. Is there anything else I should know about?”

“Not yet.” I listen closely, anxious in case he decides not to tell me the information he promised.

Mr. Masters doesn’t say anything else, so I clear my throat. “And your update?”

He waits like he’s unsure whether to really tell me the rest. “I believe your father might have hidden something in our offices, but I haven’t found it yet, and I’m not sure what it was.”

“He hid something? Like what? Why do you think that?” I glance over at Jordan, but he looks as confused as I feel.

“It’s half a hunch and half based on old memories.” Mr. Masters’s voice has dropped down low, like he’s telling us an important secret. “I remember him staring at a wall panel when we were in his office during a meeting once. And when I came back later, he was pushing around the corners of it—like he was trying to get it to move.”

“Well, have you checked that panel?” I ask as my mind tries to sort out what this could mean.

“It’s been almost thirteen years since that happened. I didn’t even think about it until recently—”

I cut him off. “How could you have never thought of it before now?”

He gives an exasperated sigh. “Miss Riley, have you forgotten that I’m a criminal defense attorney? If I start snooping without my clients’ permission around every case, it’s just as likely that I might find something incriminating to my clients as something that could help them. Sometimes it’s smarter to forget details like this one.”