Page 10 of I'll Be There
What he really needed was Liza. Liza, waiting for him. Liza with the way she had of listening, her ability to yank him out of his grief, turn his frustration into hope. She had a faith that he not only envied, but clung to.
It had healed him, really—so much of his fractured past nothing but deep, grooved scars that marked the byways of his walk of faith. She could help purge the image of Gunnar’s grief, the mumbling voices of his own failures, out of his brain, or at least tuck them back safely into the past.
He should have texted more than a feebleokto her sweet words. He pulled out his phone, unlocked it. He’d turned it off while driving and now found two missed calls, and one had left a message. The first missed call was from his friend Jim Micah. Funny that he should call today, of all days. He hadn’t talked to Micah in, well, a couple years, really. But it didn’t matter. Micah knew him better than anyone.
He should call him back, tell him the good news. Although, he probably should have invited him to the wedding, so yeah, maybe he’d save that call.
The other number took him a second—a long second—to place.
And then, oh...my...
The number he’d never deleted, unable to take that final step.
Justin’s burner phone, the one the NSA hadn’t confiscated.
Conner swallowed, his chest webbed, and headed outside, punching the voicemail code.
Bracing himself.
A woman’s voice, a little shaky, as if she’d been crying. “Um, I hope this is you. I...I’m not sure why you’re telling me you’re getting married.Married? But...I don’t understand, Justin. I thought...anyway. Um. I think they found me, because the house—it’s gone. Someone burned it. And maybe you don’t care anymore, but I’m okay. And I still have it, if you want it. Except...oh, please just call me back.”
The guys had bumped past him as Conner stilled, caught in the entry between the outer and inner doors of the restaurant. Outside, the rain had died to a drizzle.
He listened to the message again.
Same shaky voice, and yes, she’d saidJustin.
Except, what was she doing with Justin’sphone?
He glanced out at the truck, then pushed redial.
The voice answered on the first ring. “Is it you?”
“Um...”
“Oh, geez—”
“Wait—it’s Conner. Conner Young. I...um...this is my brother Justin’s number.”
More silence. “I’m sorry. Wrong number—”
“Wait! Please.” He’d raised his voice and got a look from a couple of teenage girls walking in. Cut his voice low. “Who are you?”
An intake of breath.
“Listen.” He cupped his hand over his mouth. “Justin...was murdered. Seven years ago.”
More silence.
“Please. If you know anything—”
“What was your brother’s favorite food?”
He moved aside to let a family pass, held his other hand to his ear over their chatter. “What?”
“Answer the question.”
“Peanut butter milk shakes.”
