Page 49 of Justice & Liberty

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The Collins housewas very impressive, even if it wasn’t in the best repair. I wasn’t even sure why it wasn’t in perfect repair, because everyone knew Ephraim Collins had been a rich old bastard. He’d hung his money over Sabrina’s head for years, or else she wouldn’t have stayed in South Liberty.

His antique Rolls Royce was in better shape than I remembered, black and shiny as though it had a fresh coat of paint only recently.

Interesting, since Jo Joyce had been right, and I was sure he shouldn’t have been driving anymore. Heck, once when I was a teenager, he’d mistaken me for her, even though she was like, almost twenty years older than me. His vision had clearly been failing him for years, so the fact that he’d been driving was downright dangerous.

Abigail Collins answered the door when we knocked, and it was odd to me, to think she was that age as well. The same age as my mother. I had always thought of Abigail as positively ancient. That or some kind of ageless non-entity,because of the way she’d slipped into the background of her own life.

It had been deliberate, I realized, when she answered the door in a beautiful lacy white dress, and...smiled. I didn’t think I’d ever seen her smile before. Oh, pained smiles, or reassuring ones, sure, but this was a real smile.

This was a woman who was free, for the first time in her entire life.

“Hunter Grant and Justice Jones. I must say, I did not expect you two to be the ones investigating this thing.” Then she stepped out of the doorway and motioned us in, rolling her eyes. “Though I suppose obviously it wasn’t going to be Pat Parker, was it?”

Hunter chuckled. “You know Pat’s wanted to be retired since the day he got elected, and that was...hell, I was a kid, I don’t even remember exactly when it was.”

She laughed, and it was a tinkling, musical sound. Abigail was as beautiful as Sabrina, I realized, somehow startled by the information. “Can I get you some water? Lemonade? I don’t have any soda in the house.” She paused, leaning her head hard to one side. “How is soda these days? I haven’t had one since I was a kid. Maybe...maybe I’ll buy some when I go to the grocery store.”

Hunter gave a shrug. “I like it. Cola’s a bit of an acquired taste, but you’d probably be safe starting with something lemon lime, or ginger ale.”

“I’ll do that,” Abigail agreed. Then she spent a moment staring off into space. “And a cake. They make those chocolate cakes, and I always thought they looked delicious, but—well, you know. Everyone knows.”

I’d have expected that a person saying something like that would sound angry, but Abigail didn’t. If anything, she sounded slightly abashed, as though she had something to be embarrassed about.

Since I didn’t think she had a damned thing to be ashamed of, I shook my head. “Cheesecake. The co-op has these cheesecakes. With chocolate ganache and raspberry topping. They’re life-changing.”

Hunter considered for a moment, then nodded. “True. The co-op. They also make an incredible key lime pie. Best I’ve had this side of the Mississippi.”

“I’m going to gain forty pounds,” Abigail announced, like it wasn’t a horrible thing, but a life goal.

And hell, good for her. I mean, assuming itwasgood for her and didn’t cause her any health issues.

We all worried too much about our weight and not enough about things that mattered way more, like our mental health and self-esteem.

She got us both glasses of lemonade, and took us back to a room she called “the solarium,” which made me think of Victorian manors, or maybe the game Clue. But no, that was “the conservatory,” wasn’t it?

Ephraim Collins, killed with the antifreeze in the solarium.

Regardless, it was weird and formal and not a room most people had in their house.

“Do you think I killed him?” Abigail asked, and still, her tone was conversational, not aggressive. “I’m a very reasonable suspect. Last will I saw, I get more of the money than anyone else, and the house as well. Though he kept threatening to disinherit both Sabrina and me in favor of Charlotte, since she”—she affected a gravelly voice—“ ‘made something of herself, unlike you two.’ I think he’d have done it, if he could have gotten her to reply to a single message he sent her.”

Hunter huffed in irritation, and I only just held myself back. He’d forced them to stay, disallowed them to go to college, and then belittled them for not doing it? What acomplete tool.

Part of me sympathized with whoever had killed him. It was justified a dozen times over, by multiple people. Multiple lives he’d ruined.

“We don’t think you did it,” I told Abigail. I hadn’t asked Hunter’s input, but we had agreed last night about the fact that something had to have changed for there to be a motive. Beside me, Hunter nodded, and it bolstered my confidence. Take that, Tanya. My voice stabilized into something that sounded bizarrely like a strong, independent woman as I told her, “What we think is that something had changed recently, and that’s at the heart of what happened. That’s why he was killed.”

Abigail considered for a moment, sitting back in her chair and thinking.

“You know what? It did. Well, maybe not a major change, but it was something new. I’ll be right back.” She got up and headed out of the room, and Hunter looked down at me, those bright eyes completely capturing me in their gravity.

“That was...really hot,” she said, then bit her lip. “I really hope you don’t mind, but I suddenly have the near-uncontrollable urge to do this.”

Slowly, so very slowly, she leaned toward me. Her hot breath across my lips almost made me arch into her, gasping for my own breath as she completed the movement and finally touched her lips to mine. Just lightly, just brushing them together, almost a tickle of a movement, and somehow, I’d never before realized just how sensitive lips are. Every tiny motion went shooting through me like lightning bolts as she rubbed her lips across mine.

Once.

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