Page 24 of The Thinnest Air
Ronan looks to me. “What makes you think they aren’t?”
“Do you know something?”
“In any missing persons case, we always look at spouses or partners first,” he says, also keeping his voice hushed.
“So you haven’t ruled him out?” I ask.
“I haven’t. No.” Ronan tucks his bottom lip beneath his teeth for a second before giving a quick shake of his head. “Not yet.”
I turn back to Andrew, watching as my mother hands him a tissue. Those are real tears, at least in the physical, tangible sense. The influence behind them? Only Andrew knows.
“Why’d you come here?” I ask.
“We got another tip,” he says. “Another caller claims to have spotted Meredith in Nebraska with a rough-looking man in a conversion van. They tried following them but lost them after a handful of stoplights during rush hour. We got a description on the driver.”
“And?”
“Gray hair, midfifties, goatee,” he says. “Van is blue with a rusted bumper. We got a plate, so they’re going to ID him. We can question him once they track him down, but for now I wanted to run it past Andrew to see if any of that sounded familiar.”
“Right, because Maserati-driving Andrew Price hangs out with conversion-van kidnappers.” I tilt my head, rolling my eyes.
Ronan shakes his head. “Amateur.”
“Me?” I press my finger against my chest.
“Everything I need to know is going to be in the way he reacts to my question,” he says. “What he says won’t matter.Howhe acts will.”
Connie Mayweather rises from her chair, placing her mic pack on a nearby coffee table as she chats with a producer. Either they’re done, or they’re taking a break.
“Now’s your chance,” I tell him.
Ronan cuts through the small crowd, making a beeline for Andrew, who keeps a solemn expression in his presence. From here, I watch Andrew drag his hand along his jaw, furrow his brow, and shake his head. Ronan does most of the talking, never taking his eyes off Andrew, and when a producer approaches them, the conversation ends.
When Ronan returns, I ask, “You find what you were looking for?”
“Not exactly,” he says. “But I think I’m getting close.”
“So? What’d he say?”
Ronan’s mouth forms a straight line as he eyes the nearest door. “Looks like I’ve got a few things to check into.”
“So he knows the guy? The van?” I lift a brow.
He shakes his head.
“So he reacted in a way that makes you suspect something?” I ask.
“Greer, I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?” He grips my shoulder in passing. And then he’s gone.
I get it. This is an active investigation. He can’t tell me everything.
Peering across the room, I watch as Andrew speaks to a crew member, nodding, his arms across his chest.
So help me God, if he’s remotely involved in this ...
CHAPTER 11
MEREDITH
