Page 77 of Between Now & Heartbreak

“Now?” I’m hanging onto every word.

“You are the game changer. Everyone, including me, thought she killed that baby. I mean, whatelsewould she have done, right? She was a murderer after all.” She puts murderer in air quotes.

“Now… we know that when she ran away that night, she was pregnant with a child she knew wasn’t her husband’s. She traveled as far away as she could get, gave birth, and then she came all the way back home, less than a week after she left that baby on the steps of a church, and turned herself in.”

“And? It doesn’t change the fact that there’s still a missing kid and a husband she confessed to killing.”

“I thinkmaybeshe took the rap for someone else or at the very least had help.” She sits back, and watches me for a reaction.

I release a long, shuddering breath and shake my head to stop the spinning.

“That’s a very different theory than everyone else’s.”

Her expression hardens, her upper lip curls in disgust.

“Thereisno theory. No one cared enough about a young woman with no name, no money, and an abusive drunk of a husband. They just locked her away so they didn’t have to be reminded of their collective failure to protect her from the men who preyed on her. The culture of secrets and the concentration of power in this town and towns like it all across the country, allowed it all to happen.”

Her eyes are burning with indignation. I’m not sure Susan Kendicott is the victimcumhero she’s spun just now, but I’m sure there are plenty of women who are. After my own experience trying to access public records, I can see how tenacious corruption can be.

“So, now that you know all of that, what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to write this book and blow it all wide open.” She grins baring her teeth in a blatant sinister smile. I feel sorry for whoever she’s going after.

“Thank you for helping me get answers.”

“Instructions are inside.” She nudges the back with fingertips.

I pick it up.

“How can I get it back to you?”

“Text me and I’ll swing by to get it before I head back to Austin.”

My phone rings and I grimace when I see it’s Nadia.

I send it to voicemail, but open my browser to search for a number I should have called days ago.

“Sorry can you give me a second? I need to make a call.”

“I need to check my email anyway. Go ahead.”

I call The Wishbone and make a reservation for two at 7pm that evening.

“Sorry about that.”

“Hot date?” She asks sarcastically.

“Hardly, my sister’s sorority sister is in town, I’m taking her sightseeing and there’s this place – The Wishbone - that got a write up on some big entertainment blog.”

She holds her hands up and shakes her head.

“Say no more. I was just kidding and…I don’t really care.”

At my slow blink, she cringes slightly. “I’m sorry. Was that rude?” She asks.

I squint at her knowingly. “Somehow, I don’t believe you actually care whether it was rude or not.”

There’s not a hint of apology in her bark of laughter.

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