Page 12 of The Last Housewife

Jamie said nothing until the waitress took off. Then he burst.

“Tell me everything. What do you do? Where do you live? What’s your life like? I’ve missed you.”

He was smiling, earnest, but that only made me more nervous. I picked up my napkin and twisted it. Immediately, his eyes dropped to my hands, and his smile faded.

“You’re married.”

I dropped the napkin and twisted my ring. “I am.”

“Well, congratulations. Tell me about him.”

At that moment, my phone lit up in the corner of the table:Calvin Deroy calling. I clicked the screen black, heart thumping.

He raised an eyebrow. “Speak of the devil?”

“His name is Cal. We live in Dallas. I used to write forThe Slice, but lately…”Lately, nothing.I felt the words die.

Jamie tilted his head. “I never thought you’d end up back in Texas.”

Jamie had been my best friend growing up, but even so, there was so much I’d kept from him. I’d wanted one person to keep looking at me the way he always had. I cleared my throat. “Maybe we should talk about the case.”

“Okay.” He said it slowly, dragging a hand through his hair. “I’m doing great, by the way. Bought an apartment in Brooklyn, the podcast numbers are high, my parents are retired and loving it. They ask about you.”

“Shit. I’m sorry, Jamie. Of course I want to know how you’ve been.”

“It’s fine.” He bent to his bag and unzipped it. “We can get straight to business.”

He pulled out a file and cracked it open on the table. Inside were papers, each with the seal of the Westchester County Police Department.

The waitress came back and slid our drinks across the table. Jamie casually flipped the file closed, and we both remained silent until she left.

“Laurel’s police report,” I breathed, once she was gone. “How’d you get it?”

“Ah, you know. Those municipal data systems: famously impenetrable. I’ve got someone talented on my team. I asked, he delivered.” He gave me a faint smile, straightening the papers. “How do you think I get so many scoops?”

“What you said in the episode…” I pointed at the report. “That Laurel was found almost exactly like Clem, both on campus. It doesn’t make any sense. Laurel was thirty years old. Why would she go back to college to kill herself? She had a lot of reasons to stay away.”

Jamie’s eyes narrowed, and I could feel his scrutiny travel over me. This must be his reporter face. “You think Laurel was killed, too?”

“I don’t know. Yes? The similarities between her and Clem are too strange to be a coincidence.”Unless it was guilt, my mind whispered.

Jamie’s grip on the papers tightened. “Shay.” He said it urgently enough that I met his eyes. “Who would do this?”

My throat went dry. “I don’t know.”

He held my gaze, and an uncomfortable flush spread down my neck. His eyes were an arresting mix of green and brown. Worse, they were knowing.

“That man,” he said. “The one from that day in the city. This has nothing to do with him, does it?”

I was already shaking my head, all my instincts firing:Turn around. Run. Don’t let it in.

But I was here to do what Laurel and Clem needed. To be brave.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I need to find out.”

Jamie picked up his drink and stared into it. “That day, when I saw you—when I met Laurel and Clem—I didn’t know what to think. I was scared, Shay. That’s part of why I’ve been trying to track you down. I was tempted to use my guy, but I didn’t want to violate your privacy—”

“What does the file say?” I interrupted. “Are there any details you left out that could help us?”