Every Last Fear(51)

Lying in wait.

If that was the case, maybe she had no intention of arresting Liv. She felt a trickle of sweat roll down her side.

Then, a sign of hope. Up the road, an old Humvee, one of those weird military trucks, headed toward them. Liv recognized it—her father’s friend and neighbor, Glen Elmore. A quirky vehicle for a quirky man. Liv’s dad was always a sucker for people who bucked convention.

The cop looked over her shoulder at the Humvee, which was taking the curve fast. Something about that section of asphalt inspired a heavy foot.

Turning back to Liv, the cop said, “When an officer asks you to do something, you best do it.” She had deep wrinkles around her mouth and lining her forehead, too many for a woman her age.

“That hasn’t worked out so well for my family.” Liv felt anger in her chest. She shouldn’t have said it, but Glen’s truck was getting close. He’d surely recognize Liv, stop to see what was going on.

Officer White stepped into Liv’s personal space. She smelled of cigarettes and sour coffee. “At least you still have a family. Sampson’s wife and kids aren’t so lucky.”

Sampson. This wasn’t just about how the documentary had skewered White’s reputation; it was about the death—the suicide—of her partner, Ron Sampson. The news speculated that it was the pressure from being villainized in the documentary. The calls and threats to the station house. The public shaming.

Mercifully, Glen’s Humvee pulled behind Liv’s rental.

“Get back in your vehicle,” White called to Glen as he climbed out of the tanklike cabin.

“Olivia, I heard you were in town. It’s good to see you, dear,” Glen said, ignoring White. “How’s your dad?”

Liv smiled. “He’s okay. Getting himself into some trouble at the home.”

Glen smiled back. “As I’d expect. I need to get over to see him. It’s been too long.” He turned to the cop. “Wendy White, what in the Sam Hill are you doin’?”

“I said get back in your vehicle, Glen.”

“Young lady, I knew your daddy when you were a glint in his eye, so don’t you tell me what to do.”

White’s mouth turned to a slit. “This is police business.”

“Like hell. Uncuff her before you ruin what’s left of your career. For Pete’s sake.” Glen shook his head. “I’d hate to call Sheriff Graham.”

White drew in a breath, bunched her face. She yanked the keys from her belt and unlocked the handcuffs.

Liv massaged her wrists, which were red from the shackles.

The officer walked angrily to her patrol car without saying a word. She revved the engine, then tore off, throwing dirt in the air.

Liv hugged Glen hello.

“I’m sorry about that,” Glen said. “She’s been a mess since that TV show. Whole town’s been outta sorts.”

“I’m sorry about all that,” Liv said, unsure why she was apologizing for holding this shithole town accountable for what it had done to her family.

“To hell with ’em all.”

She smiled at that. “How are you, Glen?”

“I could complain, but I won’t.”

“Doris?”

“She passed.”

“I’m so sorry,” Liv said. “I didn’t know. No one told—”

“Well, all right then,” he said. As when she was a girl, Glen was a man of few words, and even fewer emotions.

“All right then,” she replied.





CHAPTER 33


SARAH KELLER

“It’s been just awful. Maggie, she was”—the school principal looked at the ceiling, searching for the right word—“she was “decent. A kind girl whose family had been through so much but she still was positive, a bright light. She was admitted to MIT, and was so excited.…”

Keller nodded. Mrs. Flowers wore a flowing blouse with a chunky wood necklace. Her office at Naperville High School was filled with photos of her with students. Knickknacks from travel, a lot from African countries by the looks of them. Keller could imagine her greeting the students every morning. The kind of woman who saw promise in everyone, underpaid and overworked, but delighted to be there. The twins were years away from high school, but they should be so lucky.

“I’d like to talk with some of Maggie’s friends,” Keller said.

Flowers’s expression tightened while she considered whether to allow her students to talk to the FBI without notifying their parents. But she picked up a phone and asked someone to call Harper Bennett to the office.

A few minutes later a pretty young woman appeared in the doorway. Eyes wide, she approached apprehensively, as if concerned she was in trouble for something.

“Harper, please come in,” the principal said.

Harper Bennett had green eyes and stylish brown hair with chestnut highlights. Keller was surprised at her outfit. She wore what looked like flannel pajama bottoms, white tube socks with sports sandals, and a sweatshirt that said BOULDER.

“This is Agent Keller with the FBI.”

Harper’s eyes got even wider.

“She has questions about Maggie. I know this is a hard time, but we hoped you could help.”

Harper nodded, and took a seat next to Keller’s in front of the principal’s desk.