Finn said, “Even if Colby is the only one who actually knows anything, it’s too risky.It borders on witness tampering—even if Colby isn’t officially a witness yet.It could look like you’re trying to buy his silence or intimidate him through the pretense of a professional relationship.”
“Iamtrying to buy his silence!”
“The point isn’t lost on me,” Finn said grimly.“Did you hear me when I said we needed to be strategic and careful?Approaching Colby puts you on record.Any conversation could be recorded, overheard, or twisted.It indicates panic.If Colby’s fishing for leverage, approaching him confirms that you believe there’s something to hide.”
I opened my mouth, but he spoke over me.
“And finally, it makes you look guilty.Even a sincere offer could be read as a bribe, threat, or an attempt at manipulation.”
“Extortion is a crime, too.”
“It sure is.But so far, he hasn’t tried to extort anything from you.He submitted a weird partial manuscript that freaked you out for reasons he might be unaware of.”
“You’re joking.”
“That’s what a lawyer would argue.The guilty flee, etc.”
I swallowed, nodded once, curtly, and stared out at the choppy white-capped water.
I could feel Finn’s gaze as he continued to plow his way through his pancakes.He said finally, “If, depending on what we learn from Milo’s family, I think talking to Colby is warranted, I’ll talk to him.But it’s a risk.”
“No.”On this point I was adamant.“If one of us has to take that risk, it’ll be me.”
Finn didn’t bother debating.He sat back, sipping his coffee contemplatively.“Tell me about Milo.”
“Like what?Why?”
“Victimology,” he prompted.“We start the investigation with the victim.”
“I know, but Dominic was the victim.”
“We know who killed Dominic.The mystery here is what happened to Milo.”
He was right.I wasn’t sure why I was arguing.“Right.Milo was… He was different.Different from Dominic for sure.Different from everyone else I knew.He wasn’t just a jock.He was smart and talented.”
“Did you grow up together?”
“I met him in theater.”
“Theater?”Finn echoed.“You do not strike me as the theater type.”
I smiled faintly.“I know.I’m not.But I was an introverted kid.Shy.Self-conscious.Painfully awkward.If I had to get up and speak, I’d break into a cold sweat.So, I decided I would take speech.But speech class was full and so I ended up having to take theater instead.And that’s where I met Milo.”
“Was Milo a theater type?”
“He had a really good singing voice.He always got a role in the musicals.His acting was so-so.It didn’t matter because he was so good-looking.He had that type of personality that draws people in.He could talk to anybody.”
Finn’s mouth curved.“And he talked to you.”
“He did.”I smiled, too.Fondly.“Mostly about books and writing.I wanted to be a writer back then.”
Finn’s brows shot up.“I didn’t know that.What happened?”
I laughed.“It turned out I didn’t like writing that much.”
“What?”
“I mean, I loved writing bits and pieces, scenes, vignettes.I loved crafting beautiful sentences.I loved imagining stories and dreaming about the lives of the characters.But the actualwriting, the prolonged effort of stringing all those sentences together—all the boring transition and filling in of blanks and having to ensure it all made sense—It’s hard work if you don’t enjoy it.And I didn’t.I preferred reading.Ultimately, I preferred editing.”