Page 35 of Philly
“Trevor wasn’t much better,” Gabriel said, referring to Burt’s older son.
She made a face. “He was in your class, wasn’t he?”
He let out a disgusted huff. “Tiny-dick-Trevor was in the class above me.”
She snorted. “How did you know?”
Gabriel’s gaze held hers, then he laughed. “He really had a tiny dick? And how wouldyouknow that?”
She chuckled, not fighting a smile. “Remember Marian Howard? She went to your school but was in my class?” He nodded. “She hooked up with him at some party our senior year. He was still hanging around town.”
“And around high schoolers,” Gabriel added.
She wrinkled her nose. “I know, gross. But she thought it would give her cachet if she hooked up with a twenty-year-old.” She paused, remembering that long-ago night. One of the better ones of her childhood. Daphne had been long gone, living in Paris and launching her modeling career. Her parents had been out of town for the weekend. She’d never felt so relaxed or free in her own home before or since.
“Needless to say, she was less than impressed,” Callie continued, waggling her forefinger in the same way Marian had that night.
Gabriel barked out another laugh, drawing one from her, too. Who knew she and Gabriel would bond over the size of another guy’s penis?
Gabriel wiped his eyes, still smiling. “I called him that because I figured his shitty personality—all bluster and ego—had to be compensating for something.”
“From what Marian said, it wasn’t just a size issue, but I’d warned her of that beforehand. A dude that caught up in himselfwasn’tsomeone who’d give a shit about her. A truth she acknowledged by the end of the night.”
Gabriel took a bite of his burger and chuckled again. She picked up one of her crispy chicken strips and nibbled on it.
“Do you want to hear the rest?” he asked, giving her a chance to remain in this lighthearted space they’d found.
“Only if you want to tell me,” she replied. She wanted him to but wouldn’t push.
“You’re not wrong about Burt being a bigot. Turns out he doesn’t like gay people either,” Gabriel said, watching her.
She set her chicken strip down. “I don’t think Burt liked anyone who wasn’t like him. Or Trevor,” she added.
“And when it’s his own son…Trevor’s brother,” Gabriel said, ending his comment with a sad shrug.
She searched her memories. “Bryce Woodley?”
Gabriel nodded. “He and my brother were partners. They knew it wouldn’t go over well with Bryce’s family, so they kept it on the down-low. Lived outside of town in the cabin. My brother worked out of Philadelphia on a construction crew so almost never ventured into town. Bryce was a wildlife manager at the state park. He didn’t have the luxury of not running into his father or brother.”
“What happened?” she asked.
“What Ithinkhappened is I think someone set fire to the cabin and killed my brother.” He paused, then added, “And I think someone cut Bryce’s brake lines. He died the same day in a single-car accident.”
The air left her lungs, and what little food she’d eaten spun in her stomach. “And because Burt was the sheriff and all this happened in unincorporated parts of the county, his team managed the investigation.”
Not a question, but Gabriel nodded. “And because his son had died the same day, he pulled the sympathy card,” he said. “I doubt anyone questioned anything about the investigationsor dug any further. They just let the sheriff ‘mourn,’ typed up a basic report of both incidents, and closed the files.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “There are a lot of reasons I hated where we grew up; now I have one more. Have you ever thought of going back and getting the case reopened?”
He bobbed his head as he finished off his burger. “I’ve thought about asking Leo or Ava to look into it. But…”
“But it’s a lot,” she said, understanding that the emotion of reopening the case might outweigh justice. Especially when justice wasn’t a given. Not after so many years had passed.
She wished her grandmother had told her, though. Callie had no idea why she hadn’t—surely she’d known. She’d still been in school at the time of the murder, but she’d joined the FBI a few years later. The evidence, if there was any, would have been much fresher then. Maybe she could have done something.
“Tell me about Daphne,” he said, surprising her and pulling her thoughts from traveling down a road no longer open to her. HICC had a lot of pull and a lot of power, but she didn’t think they’d be interested in her spending time on an almost-fifteen-year-old case.
“She still as wild as ever?” he asked.
