Gin Fling (Bootleg Springs, #5)(85)

Q. Bootleg Springs is famous for the disappearance of Callie Kendall. What is your theory?



Misty Lynn Prosser: Why’s everyone always goin’ on and on about that girl? So she disappeared. Big deal. She didn’t even live here. Personally, I couldn’t give two shits about what happened. Maybe she up and got herself murdered and dumped in the lake. Maybe she met a boy and ran away and got herself murdered and dumped in a different lake.





47





Jonah





Out of all the Bodines, I’d been the least affected by the Callie Kendall investigation and our father’s involvement. I hadn’t grown up here. Hadn’t known Callie or experienced the horror of her disappearance. Hadn’t been raised by the man that many now considered to be a murderer.

But with my mother’s revelation, my head was spinning. Gibson looked like he’d just seen a ghost.

I picked up the postcards again, examining them as if they held the answers.

“I can’t believe you never told me,” I said to my mother.

Mom winced. “Subjects pertaining to your father were a sore subject for you,” she said diplomatically. “And if his suspicions were correct and Judge Kendall had anything to do with Callie’s injuries, then that man is dangerous. Your father made me swear never to tell anyone. He didn’t want anyone else becoming a target.”

Shelby was watching Gibson closely, drumming her fingers against her lips. Her tell for deep thought.

My brother’s words echoed in my ears.

That’s her handwriting.

There was more to the story. A lot more. I was sure of it. But right now, there was an immediate danger to be dealt with.

“I gotta be honest. This is a lot to process,” I said to the room in general.

Shelby nodded, still staring at Gibson. I knew she’d zeroed in on his comment as well.

“You knew this whole time?” he asked my mom quietly.

“Yes. But it wasn’t my story to tell. I don’t tell stories that aren’t mine,” she said carefully as if she were delivering a message in code.

“Jonah, can I see you in the kitchen for a minute?” Shelby said suddenly.

“Uh, sure?”

I followed her out of the dining room and into the kitchen.

She turned to face me, arms crossed over her chest. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said, not quite sure if I meant it or not. My mother had been keeping a secret so big it now involved dead bodies. And she’d kept it for over a decade.

“This is a lot of information,” she pressed.

I ran my hand through my hair.

I could hear Gibson and my mother speaking in the dining room. He had questions. We all would. And I had one, too.

“How did he recognize her handwriting?” I asked quietly.

Shelby bit her lip. “I was wondering that myself,” she confessed.

“Things are gonna get crazy,” I told her.

She nodded. “But I’m here for you. Whatever you and your mom and the Bodines need.”

I pulled her into my arms. “Thank you for being so good to my family.”

“In a town this small, there aren’t many degrees of separation between your family and my family.”

“Still,” I said, tilting her chin up. “Thank you.” I kissed her softly.





*



“So, who do we tell?” I asked.

Everyone around the table was silent. Billy Ray burped under the table, then barked in delight.

“We have to go to the authorities,” Shelby said. “They need to know that that body isn’t Callie Kendall. That some other family lost a daughter, a sister.”

“Bowie and Cassidy are getting married tomorrow,” I reminded her. “Your triathlon is tomorrow.”

“I realize that. But if this is all connected? If whoever threatened Cece Benefiel into retracting her claim was involved in Abbie Gilbert’s death?”

“If the same person is responsible for that car nearly forcing you off the road on your bike,” I added.

“If one person did all that, they’re also likely the person who hurt Callie in the first place. And they’re powerful enough to change a forensics report,” Shelby said.

Her statement hung like a cloud over the table.

“This is bullshit. We know it’s the judge,” Gibson said, slapping a hand on the table.

The puppy barked ferociously at the noise. Gibs had accepted my mother’s story as the truth, which told me he either trusted her or he needed Callie Kendall to be alive. Maybe it was a bit of both.

“Sorry, bud,” he said, leaning down to pick up Billy Ray. Despite the anger in his tone, he held the dog gently.

“The evidence points in that direction,” Shelby began. “But we can’t be certain. If we start making accusations—”

“Fuck accusations,” Gibson said. “I want a face-to-face conversation with the asshole.” Billy Ray took exception to the language and slathered Gibson’s face with his tongue. “Get your damn tongue out of my mouth!” he sputtered.

The mood around the table lightened almost imperceptibly.

“This is exactly why we shouldn’t tell Scarlett,” Shelby pointed out. “Half-cocked accusations aren’t going to get us a confession. And if it is the judge, he obviously has power and reach. He has access to police records, maybe even a thug or two in his pocket to do his dirty work.”