The Last Lie Told (Finley O’Sullivan, #1)(18)

She drove several blocks before he summoned a response.

“Give me a break on this one, Fin. I gotta do what I gotta do, all right?”

She braked for a light, faced him, and stared into those dark glasses. Of course she understood. Maybe better than anyone else, considering her own circumstances. “All right.” The light changed, and she drove on. “Just remember that when you get another complaint about my tactics.”

Jack laughed. “Deal.”





7


10:30 a.m.


Margaritaville Hotel

John Lewis Way South

Nashville

Finley and Jack were instructed by the lady behind the reception desk to wait at a table in the bar by the pool. As it turned out, Sophia Legard had known only the hotel her daughter had chosen, not the room number. Finley surveyed the outdoor dining area that surrounded them. The wait was definitely not a hardship. Nice view, and they had the space to themselves save for the bartender behind the gleaming bar.

Apparently, geography wasn’t the only distance between Olivia and the rest of the family.

Not that Finley was judging. She hadn’t spoken to her mother in more than six months. Their last exchange had been a heated shouting match that brought tears to her father’s eyes. Not Finley’s finest hour. Her father didn’t deserve the pain the rift between Finley and her mother had caused. After Derrick’s death, her mother had attempted to negotiate with Finley through her father, but she’d refused to listen. Wellman, the detective in charge of the case, had assured Finley that Judge O’Sullivan had called the chief of police personally and urged him to put his best on Finley’s case.

“Just look how that turned out,” she mumbled.

The case had gone ice cold. Not a single lead or even the first clue.

Maybe the Judge had gotten what she wanted after all. Derrick was out of her life for good.

“Did you say something?”

Finley glanced at Jack and the sparkling water he’d been nursing since they arrived. She reached for her own glass of the same. “Nothing. I was just thinking about—”

“Mr. Finnegan?”

Finley blinked, focused on the woman who now stood at their table. Olivia Legard. The spitting image of Cecelia Legard except for the blonde hair and bloodred nails. She wore a sleek cream-colored wide-legged jumpsuit that looked somehow casual and elegant at the same time.

Jack stood. “Olivia, thank you for meeting us.”

“Ms. Legard.” Finley offered her hand. “I hope your trip was unremarkable.”

Olivia barely grazed Finley’s palm with her own. “Most unremarkable.”

She sat down, and Jack resumed his seat. The waiter immediately reappeared.

“Coffee,” Olivia said with a smile for the older man, who obviously thought she was some sort of celebrity.

The younger-by-five-minutes twin certainly dressed the part. Not flashy or glittery, just stylish and quietly elegant. Her makeup was flawless, making her seem far more mature than her sister. The red on her lips created an illusion of lushness missing from Cecelia’s. The muted color on her cheeks gave her pale skin a healthy glow.

Finley’s mother used to remind her frequently that a little touch of this and that went a long way. Finley couldn’t remember the last time she’d bothered to go the distance and really make up her face. She was content with her naked lips and clean-lashed dark eyes. She’d never been especially fond of cosmetics. Her one concession was a little blush on her cheeks; otherwise, she appeared as white as a freshly drained corpse in a morgue.

“We spoke with your mother and your sister this morning,” Finley began, kicking off the interview.

“I suppose they told you how disappointed in me they are.” She shrugged. “I can’t be a part of that anymore. I had to get away. Start my own life.” She turned to Jack. “You understand. Mother is the most suffocating person on the planet.”

Just how well did Jack know this family? Finley continued to be amazed.

“She worries,” he offered, staying neutral on the subject.

Finley picked up her sweating glass. “I can understand the need to escape. Family is not always everything it’s cracked up to be.”

Olivia assessed her for a long moment. “I did a little research on you, Ms. O’Sullivan.”

“Finley,” she countered before sipping her water.

“Finley.” Olivia nodded. “You’re an outstanding attorney.”

Most people qualified that statement with were. “I had my moments.”

“I can understand how what happened shattered who you once were. Life is never the same after . . .” She drew in a deep breath. “Murder.”

“You wanted,” Finley offered, “to put it behind you.”

“I had to. I was very close to my father.”

The waiter reappeared and set a coffee before Olivia, then disappeared once more.

“He and I were . . .” She smiled. “So much alike. I really never had much in common with my sister beyond what you see when you look at me. We’re nothing alike. She was the social butterfly. Always at one party or another. Hanging with friends. Getting into trouble.”

“Trouble?” Finley’s eyebrows rose. No one interviewed five years ago had mentioned either of the twins being in trouble or causing trouble.