Page 29 of The Perfect Hosts
“No,” Jamie admits. “I mean I saw him last night at the hospital, but he didn’t recognize me. Can’t blame him—he has a lot going on right now.”
“And you didn’t say anything?” the sheriff asks in disbelief. “Let me call him over. He’ll be glad to see you.”
“No, no,” Jamie interrupts him. “I’d rather you didn’t, at least not yet. I’m here to do a job, and I don’t want our past to distract from it. And honestly, the whole incident is still a blur.”Incident.Jamie knows his sister would be disgusted with that description of what happened.Incident, really, Jamie?she would have said.I disappeared, and you were nearly killed.Incidentis all you’ve got?
Juneau came to Jamie like this every so often. He could hear the exact timbre of her voice. Low and husky for a sixteen-year-old. She came off as tough, when she was really a bookish girl who played the flute and learned to stand up for herself when she had to.
“You sure?” the sheriff asks doubtfully. “He’s going to make the connection sooner or later.”
“I am,” Jamie says. “And in light of our past, I’ve called in another agent to take the lead.” This is a lie, but he will make that call at some point. “Are you okay with not saying anything for now?”
“Not really,” Colson says. “A woman is dead, and we have the press banging on our door. The fact that the lead investigator and the homeowner are connected isn’t a good look. I don’t want anything screwing up this case.”
“I don’t either,” Jamie says. “I’m good at my job, Sheriff. Really good. That’s why my boss sent me here. I’m not trying to hide my past, but honestly it’s not relevant. Of course I’m grateful Wes found me, but I’d never jeopardize an investigation for anyone.” Colson looks hard at Jamie, and he can’t help feeling like that twelve-year-old kid again in a hospital bed. “Give me a few days,” Jamie presses. “I’ll get a lot more information from witnesses if they don’t know my past. If it becomes an issue, I’ll be the first one to say so.”
“Listen, I just want to make sure your focus is going to be on this case and not your sister’s,” Colson says.
“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” Jamie says. “There hasn’t been any new information in Juneau’s case for years.” The sheriff lifts his eyebrows, and Jamie knows he hit a nerve. He knows that Colson worked hard to find out what happened to her, but it wasn’t enough. There was no usable DNA, no hair or fibers, nothing that led to the person who took her.
“We haven’t given up,” the sheriff says.
“I know,” Jamie says, “I get it.” And he does. He knows that not all cases are solved, that sometimes, no matter the effort, the pieces of the puzzle don’t always come together. He’s got several open cases himself. But it’s different when the victim is your sister. When it’s you.
Are you really letting him off that easy?Juneau’s voice says.They didn’t do shit. You know why? Because these small communities protect their own. Always have. Always will. Mom was a nobody cleaning lady who picked up their shit, and we were her nothing kids.
Jamie tries to muscle his sister’s face from his thoughts. “We know the explosion was due to arson. Now let’s focus on figuring out who did it. What are you thinking?”
The sheriff shrugs. “I have no idea at this point. And who was the target? Johanna Monaghan? The Drakes? The techs found Johanna’s phone in the wreckage, so that might tell us something or nothing. Who knows?”
“I hear Dalton Monaghan has a temper. Anything lead you to believe he might be involved?” Jamie asks.
“He has a temper, all right. Mostly a lot of bluster. We’ll look through our records and see if anything jumps out,” Colson says.
“Lucy, Madeline’s sister, mentioned there were some animal rights activists making some noise. Anything to it?”
“Nah,” the sheriff says, shaking his head. “I can’t see them involved in something like this. It’s just a ragtag group of college kids. Harmless, really. Here come Wes and Madeline,” Colson says. “Maybe they have more ideas.”
“Here’s the guest list and the names of the photographer, event planner, and catering company,” Madeline says, handing Jamie several sheets of printer paper. “I don’t know the names of the employees they might have brought along, so you’d have to check with them.”
“Thanks,” Jamie says, looking at the list. There are well over two hundred names. A lot to sift through. The sheriff’s phone buzzes, and he excuses himself to answer it. “I’d like to talk to each of you, individually, today.” Jamie looks at his watch. “Say, three o’clock at the sheriff’s office?”
“Sure thing,” Wes says, “as long as our lawyer can make it.”
Sheriff Colson lowers his phone and beckons to Jamie. “Excuse me,” Jamie says to Wes and Madeline and follows the sheriff out of earshot of the couple.
“That was the hospital over in Jackson,” the sheriff says. “The nurse says that the waitress who was injured in the explosion can talk to us now. We need to head over there and get her statement. Do you want to be the one to do that?”
“Yes, but you’re welcome to come with me,” Jamie offers. “Especially if you know her. It might make her feel more comfortable.”
“I don’t know her, actually,” the sheriff says. “She’s new to the area. What a welcome wagon.” He shakes his head.
It’s this place, Juneau whispers in his ear. Jamie brushes away the sensation as if waving away a gnat.It’s mean and ugly and spits out anyone who doesn’t belong here. You don’t belong here, Jamie. You should have learned that a long time ago. Go home. Go home to Tess.
“You okay, Jamie?” He looks up to find the sheriff looking at him with concern.
“I’m fine,” Jamie assures him, grateful the officer didn’t call him by his old nickname. “I’ll head over to the hospital to talk to the waitress. You okay holding down the fort here?”
“Yeah,” the sheriff says. “And Jamie, it’s great to see you again.”