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“No,” she says, her voice quiet but firm. “No, Caden, you do not need to see pictures of your mother like that. You do not need to read the details.”
“What if there’s something in there though? Something I’m missing because I’m too…” My voice cracks. If it was anyone but Isla here in this moment, I would be mortified. But I’ve always felt so safe with her—like I can be myself, one hundred percent.
“I’ll do it,” she says.
“What?” I croak.
She looks so brave. So determined. “I’ll read the autopsy for you. That way, you can just ask me questions and only get the information that’s necessary. You don’t have to read it all.”
I feel a whoosh of gratitude so potent it nearly knocks the wind out of me.
“I don’t know what to say,” I murmur.
She smiles shyly. “I care about finding who did this too. You aren’t alone.”
Warmth spreads through my chest. I take out my phone and forward her the files Fred sent me. “Thank you,” I say.
She gives a sort of pleased shrug. “So what else do we know?”
I love that she’s including herself in the investigation now.
“There was no casing either,” I say as we walk toward the little parking lot behind Magnolia’s Petals. “A casing could at least tell the investigators what caliber gun they’re looking for. So no casing means he was either smart enough to take it with him, or he used a revolver. Revolvers don’t eject casings when they fire.”
Isla suddenly stops short, her eyes bugging wide. “What…what is that?” she asks, pointing to my navy-blue Ducati, gleaming in the sun.
“That’s our ride,” I say.
“What about the Camaro?”
“That was Alistair’s.”
She bites her lip, looking nervous.
“It’s safe,” I promise her. “I got you a helmet.”
I stride over to my new bike and take the smaller helmet that hangs off the handlebars and hand it to her. She’s staring at me like I’ve suddenly sprouted three heads.
“I’ve never ridden a motorcycle before,” she says.
I’m still holding the helmet out to her. “Isla,” I say seriously. “I would never do anything to put you in danger. I promise you’ll be safe.”
She searches my eyes and whatever she sees in them makes her finally take the helmet. I feel a hit of triumph. I help her put it on and adjust the straps.
“Should I change?” she asks, looking down at her dress. It’s loose material that falls to her knees.
“No,” I say. “Your dress won’t fly up, you’ll be tucked in behind me.”
I try not think about how much I enjoy that idea.
“This looks expensive,” Isla says, eyeing the sleek design.
“It was,” I say with a chuckle.
“I thought you didn’t use Everton money anymore.”
“I didn’t,” I say. “But being back…I don’t know, I guess I decided to spoil myself for a minute. When in Rome and all that.” I missed my old bike back at Catarina Azul. I put my own helmet on. “I won’t drive too fast. Scouts honor.”
I hold up three fingers on my left hand.