The Lies I Told(57)

Hand to my chest, my heartbeat drummed as fast as my fingers. Someone had drugged me.

“I’d been in bars since I’d sobered up, but I never drank booze.”

The memories were there, but they danced just out of reach. We’re here. We’re here. Shine a light on us.

“I want to. Come closer. Just a little.”

When moved toward the truth, my steps became mired in quicksand. Redirecting, I shifted back to my last real memory. Hanging pictures in J.J.’s Pub. Jack had been on-site that day and had helped me carry the two dozen framed black-and-whites into the banquet room.

“We’ve never had an art show before.” He laid the stacks of wrapped frames on a large cocktail round.

“Thank you for allowing me to be your first.”

Jack’s grin had a self-deprecating quality that was so charming. “Not exactly the big time.”

“It is for me,” I said. “It’s the first time I’ve showed anything outside of my apartment.”

“Fingers crossed you sell out.”

“Doubtful, but thanks.” I’d not been keen on showing my work, but a few in my AA group had insisted. I’d reached out to Jack, and he’d immediately agreed. Showing these pictures felt a bit like stripping down in a crowd of people.

He nodded toward the wrapped collection. “Should I unwrap these?”

I drew in a breath. “That would be great.”

“I have a hammer in the back room.”

“Not necessary.” I reached in my backpack and pulled out a hammer and packet of nails. “I didn’t want to start driving holes in your walls.”

He studied the reclaimed barnwood that he’d hired a contractor to put up a couple of years ago when he’d bought O’Malley’s, renamed it, and renovated it. “Doubt it’ll make a difference to this old wood. It’s seen its share of history.”

“Then if you don’t mind, I’ll arrange the pictures around the center of each wall. Like wrapping the room in pictures.”

“Sure.”

He pulled brown paper off the first image and held it up. As he studied the print, his amusement vanished. “Brit said they were powerful.”

I watched him, seeing sadness and anger play across his features. “You could say I’m working shit out.”

Absently, he traced the edges of the frame with his thumb. “I’m surprised you went back to this place. I’ve never been able to.”

“It was a first for me. I’ve avoided it all these years until last fall. Then I couldn’t stay away. I’ve been back at least twenty times.”

He set the picture on the empty banquet table. “You need to let this go.”

“So I keep telling myself. But I can’t. Maybe if we ever find out who did this to her, I will.”

“What good will knowing do? She’ll still be dead.”

“At least her killer won’t be running around free.” The idea that a person could have taken Clare’s life and then gotten on with their own life was intolerable.

“Who says he’s free? Whoever did something like that has got to have demons.” His scowl deepened.

“That’s very specific.”

He raised a brow, shook his head. “It’s common sense.”

“Is it?”

“Maybe I listen to too many crime podcasts.” The muscles in his face had tightened and deepened the lines in his forehead.

“Are you okay?”

“I miss her, too. I liked her a lot.”

“The nice twin. The gentler one.”

“I always liked your grit,” he said.

“Brit thinks I’m nuts. Again,” I said.

“Great attorney, but she doesn’t know everything,” he said. “Did you ever tell Brit about what we did the night Clare died?”

Us. The one-night stand, laced with revenge sex aimed at my sister, had remained my secret. And after Clare died, it seemed trivial. “No.”

“I thought you had. She broke up with me right after Clare died. Brit never brought your name up when she cut me loose. But I figured if she knew, her pride wouldn’t let on. Brit needs control.”

“I never told her. We were all shell-shocked after Clare. I don’t think either of us has sustained a relationship since.”

“It wasn’t a genius move on my part.”

“Maybe it’s a stupid question to ask, but why me? I thought you and Brit were happy?”

“We’d drifted apart. The long-distance thing between us was getting old.” A ghost of a smile tugged his lips. “And I always thought you were—and still are—hot.”

“Thanks?”

He chuckled. “Don’t tell Jo-Jo.”

I nodded. “Are you coming to my opening?”

“No. I’ve got to be at the other restaurant, and I’m checking in on the construction of our new restaurant location. But you’ll have my top staff here.”

“To handle the hordes of people?” I almost hoped no one showed. I’d had to talk myself into this and would’ve talked myself out if quitting weren’t equal to losing face.

“Either way, you’ll do great. I bet you make a sale.”