Vindicate (Recovered Innocence #1)(13)
“I see the way you look at her. And I know she’s the only reason you volunteered to help with her brother’s case.”
“Yesterday, yeah. But today? Today I want to be the one who helps her find a way to free her brother.”
“That’s not all you want.”
“No, it’s not, but it’s what I mostly want.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you mostly want to help her free her brother if it’s not to eventually sleep with her?”
The way Cora looked when she practically stormed into Dad’s office and demanded our help, the way she stroked Cassandra’s photo, the way she talked about her brother, and her box full of papers that’s been her life fill my head until I can’t think of anything else. She deserves—more than anyone else I’ve ever met—to get what she wants. She’s worked damn hard for it. I respect the hell out of her. I genuinely like her. All of these things roll around in my brain, but looking at my dad, I can’t seem to form any of the words to tell him exactly what I’m thinking.
All that comes out is a pathetic “She needs me to.”
Surprise flashes across his face first, followed by the barest trace of a smile that he somehow manages to make look stern. “Okay, then.”
“Okay.” I stand to leave, but Dad’s not done.
“Fix things with Savannah.”
“I already did.” Mostly. As best as I could for the moment.
“Then I guess I’ll see you at home later.”
“See ya.”
I head out to my car and climb in. The summer sun turned the interior into an oven, but I’m not really feeling it. I’m still back in the conference room doorway at the moment that Cora told me she doesn’t have a boyfriend. Her words loop over and around like a roller coaster, making my stomach whoosh, and I can’t help the stupid grin that splits my face. Because maybe, just maybe, Cora might like me too, or at the very least she’s beginning to. I rub the back of my hand across my mouth, but I can’t wipe away the smile or the hope.
Chapter 7
Cora
No.
That’s it. That’s Beau’s one-word response to me asking him if he’ll meet with Leo. I check the envelope again, hoping there’s more, but there isn’t. Why is he being so damn stubborn? I laid everything out for him on my last visit—how Mr. Nash helped to free Maurice Battle, how we’re looking for the missing downstairs neighbor, and how Mr. Nash was able to make an appointment to see Damien LeFeaux, the man who claimed to have seen Beau leaving Cassandra’s apartment at the time of her murder. That in itself was a seemingly insurmountable feat, but Mr. Nash pulled it off. I came real close to hugging him for it. Beau was supposed to think it over and get back to me. He got back to me, all right.
There’s no guarantee that LeFeaux will talk. He doesn’t have any incentive to cooperate with us. As Mr. Nash explained it, LeFeaux has a strong motive not to talk and avoid perjury charges. His visit could be a total waste of time. Or it could be the break we need.
It’s been nearly three weeks since I started working with Leo and his dad. Most of what we’ve done is going over old ground and trying to line up witness interviews. So far, the only person willing to talk to us is one of Cassandra’s old coworkers who now manages the store where she worked. That’s on today’s agenda and I can hardly contain my excitement. So much so that I arrive at the agency before it opens.
I park myself on the stairs and thumb through my emails. Nothing new and exciting. Pulling out my notebook, I start a letter to Beau. I’m going to be relentless in my campaign to get him to talk to Leo. I hate to say it, but Leo was right. Beau will never talk to me about Cassandra, and he might not talk to Leo either, but we have to try. Who knows what goes through Beau’s stubborn head. If it was me I’d do everything possible to get myself free. But not Beau. He’d rather sit in prison and rot like some kind of martyr.
Savannah comes up the steps. I was so engrossed in my letter that I didn’t hear her pull up. We’ve developed an uneasy kind of peace between us. She’s still pissed as hell at Leo, but she doesn’t take it out on me. Much.
I stand and wait for her to unlock the door. She doesn’t hold the door open for me. Okay. So today I’m invisible. That I can live with. It’s better than biting back smart-assed comebacks to her snide remarks. She flips on all the lights and goes to the little kitchenette to start coffee. Mr. Nash really likes his coffee.
I head for the small office space Mr. Nash gave Leo and me. It’s papered with Beau’s case. Nearly every space on the walls is covered with photos and copies of reports in a timeline from the night before Cassandra was killed to Beau’s conviction. We even have a small whiteboard where we write down tasks to accomplish every day.
Today I’m investigating private in-home nursing-home options. Cassandra’s bed-bound downstairs neighbor, Edith Wheeler, is still missing in action. How could an eighty-four-year-old invalid simply disappear? The last time she filed taxes was about seven years ago and her Social Security checks go to a P.O. Box in Montana. We haven’t been able to find any relatives for her in that area who might be cashing her checks, and the post office won’t give us the name on the box. Mr. Nash suspects Social Security fraud and he even went so far as to file a report on it. As far as we can tell, no one at the Social Security Administration or post office has opened an investigation on it. Another dead end for now.