Page 93 of Shattered Veil

“Y’all need patience,” Colton noted before draining the last dredges of his mug.

“Didn’t you tell me her car’s in the shop or something?” I twisted in my chair to look at Cassie and found her looking particularly worried. I assured her, “She probably had to catch an Uber to get here. So she’s a few minutes late. That’s not weird, Cas.”

Cassie shook her head. “Sky’s punctual. This isn’t like her.”

“It’s only five minutes after ten,” Claire gently spoke.

“The girl shows up to work fifteen minutes early—without fail,” Cassie stated. “She sits in her car in the parking lot so she’s not a bother until she’s perfectly on time. Checks out the parking situation before we ever meet up for lunch or dinner so she knows exactly where to go and doesn’t get lost.”

Colton sarcastically muttered, “She sounds super laid back.”

“I’m telling you,” Cassie insisted, “this is weird.” She picked up her phone that was resting on the countertop beside her, and glanced at the screen. “No text, no call, no nothing.”

Zoey asked, “Well, when did you talk to her last?”

“Last night?” Cassie replied with an upward inflection. “Called her and chatted for a bit. Texted her the address after.”

“You just called her up to tell her about her dead friend?” Colton inquired with raised eyebrows.

Cassie sighed heavily. “We knew Delaney, but neither of us were friends with her—and I kept it brief.”

“How brief?” he pressed. “Like…Hey, girl! Quick thing. Remember Delaney? She’s dead and I’m a skosh worried about other dancers that didn’t make their shifts. Long story. Wanna come over tomorrow and chat?”

She rolled her eyes at the insinuation. “No. Of course not.”

I recalled the short amount of time that Cassie took to speak with Skylar on the phone and there was no doubt that it was, as she had described, brief. She had emerged from Claire’s bedroom afterward, appearing slightly shaken, noting that while Skylar wasn’t privy to all the details, she did tell her about Delaney. Aside from mentioning that Skylar wasn’t entirely alone—her bathroom still needed work, and she was staying with her parents—Cassie had little desire to speak of it all. I understood entirely, for we knew that the subject would soon be revisited.

“What did you tell her?” Zoey spoke my thoughts, a hint of anxiety in her vibrant eyes.

Cassie immediately replied, “Just that I found that article about Delaney…broke that to her as gently as I could. Didn’t even mention the other dancers, yet—nothing about the laptop, nothing about 2D.”

Zoey gave her a curt nod, and I asked:

“What does she think she’s coming over here for?”

Cassie shrugged. “Coffee?”

“Coffee? You didn’t tell me that. That doesn’t seem like enough detail…what happened to being concerned for her safety?”

She returned my rapid tone, “She wasn’t on the schedule for work last night, and I told you that she stayed at her parents’ house because her bathroom’s still messed up. She wasn’t alone.”

“Oh, how convenient about her bathroom,” I sardonically stated. “I didn’t realize we were dropping fucking bombs on this poor woman today.”

“It’s a bomb no matter when I tell her, James,” she hissed.

“So, you decided to invite her over for breakfast?”

“Jay,” Luke cut in. My head whipped to his, and he quietly demanded, “Ease up.”

Cassie said, “If I told her everything at once, she’s bound to ask why we haven’t gone to the police yet.” The reminder was apt, and I sighed loudly as she told the entire group, “I didn’t exactly have an answer for that.”

“Yeah,” Colton remarked slowly, “just…I dunno…tell her we’re tryin’ to get all our ducks in a row before talking with the cops.”

“That’s a lie,” Claire unnecessarily pointed out.

“Uh huh.” He shot her a wry grin. “Would you rather the truth?”

“You know we wouldn’t,” she griped.

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