Justice Delayed (Memphis Cold Case #1)(74)

He coughed and she jerked upright, squaring her shoulders. His apartment had the kitchen and living room combined, and he walked to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of water. “Like something to drink?”

“No, thank you. Get your business taken care of?”

“What? Oh, the text. Yeah.”

Inoperable cancer. The words chased themselves. “How long do you plan to be in Memphis?”

She gave him a curious glance. “I don’t know.”

“No new boyfriend on the horizon?” He had to keep up the pretense, at least until she told him about the cancer herself. Maybe she didn’t notice the softer edge to his voice.

“No, not presently. How about yourself—girlfriend?”

“No, you were right before. Can’t seem to keep one.”

“Relationships are the pits and highly overrated.” She stared at the unlit cigarette, then looked up at him and took a deep breath.

Whatever she was going to say was lost in the coughing fit that rocked her body. He grabbed another bottle of water from the refrigerator and uncapped it. “Here, see if this helps,” he said, handing it to her.

She sipped deeply, then said, “Sorry, that happens sometimes.” Cass handed him the cigarette she’d broken in the coughing spell. “Really need to give these cancer sticks up.”

He hesitated, trying to come up with the expected comeback. “If you do, you’ll send the tobacco companies into a recession.”

“Yeah.” She gave him a crooked grin. “Well, it was good to see you.” Cass stopped at the door. “Will . . .”

He waited. Now that he was really looking at her, he saw what a shell of a woman she was.

“Thanks for letting me come in,” she said and opened the door and slipped out.

The door closed with a soft click, and his feet, rooted to the floor, refused to move. Judging from how much weight she’d lost since the last time he saw her, death wasn’t far off, and then there’d never be an opportunity to make things right.

Still, he didn’t open the door and call her back. He couldn’t be the first one to make a move. It had to come from Cass.





23


ANDI SAT ON THE PORCH OF HER PARENTS’ HOUSE in east Memphis. She loved this neighborhood, and most of the neighbors had lived here when she was a child. For as long as she could remember, Friday night meant spaghetti or lasagna or something Italian.

As a child, Friday night was when she could invite friends over to eat because there’d be so much. Will and Jimmy had been regular guests until her parents moved to the big house in Germantown. Will because he was Brad’s best friend, and Jimmy because he was always wherever Stephanie was.

But even after they moved, Will found a way to get to their house on Fridays until his aunt and uncle moved away from Memphis, taking him with them.

Andi inhaled the honeysuckle that filled the air, bringing back memories of breaking off the end of the bloom and licking the sweet liquid from the stamen. Of all the bad things that had happened when she was thirteen—her dad losing his job, her operation, Stephanie’s death—moving back home had not been one of them. Her gaze slid to the studio where they’d been earlier.

She was glad now her dad hadn’t torn the old house down—something he’d mentioned doing more than once. Odd that a bad thing was now a good thing, with the crime scene basically preserved. But how were her parents going to react to the news that the case was being reopened? The concrete that had lodged in her stomach earlier grew heavier.

Will had arrived a few minutes ago and was saying hello to her parents. She guessed she better join them.

The aroma of garlic and oregano met Andi at the front door, making her mouth water. “Mom,” she called.

“We’re in the kitchen.” Her mother’s voice floated from the back.

Her heart stilled when she saw Will. He glanced up, catching her gaze and holding it.

She should have changed into something more appealing, like the pink sweater she’d just bought, instead of the tights and long green shirt that reached halfway to her knees. At least she’d cinched a blingy silver belt at the waist.

“Something smells good,” she said, still looking at Will. She gave herself a mental shake. This was just Will. Brad’s friend. The same one who watched after her even when she didn’t want him to. The same one who almost kissed her Wednesday night. “Can I help with something?”

“Set the table. Your dad should be here soon with the dessert.”

“Where’s Brad?” Will asked.

“Tied up on some case. He said he’d be here by seven.”

Andi checked her watch. Seven fifteen. Her brother was cutting it beyond close. Surely he wasn’t going to leave telling their parents about the case to her. The back door swung open, and her dad came into the room, bringing a flat white box with Sally’s Bakery written on the side. She grabbed it. “You went all the way to Midtown for a cheesecake! What’s the occasion?”

“You’ll see.”

Andi exchanged glances with Will. The pinched look on his face reflected her feelings. It was bad enough to be the bearer of bad news, but if her parents were celebrating something, she didn’t want to bring them down. The back door opened again, and Brad entered the kitchen, wearing his gun and still in the clothes he’d worn earlier. He must have come straight from the CJC.