Page 105 of The Tomorrows After You
“Katie…” I started.
She looked at me with such wide, expecting eyes, it crushed the last bits of my shattered heart. “We can’t go back to the way it was before. I’ll never be able to thank you for how you helped me when I first got back.” I saw the light in her eyes start to dim. “I mean it. I’m grateful for you now and always… But I feel like you might have some expectations that I’ll never be able to meet.” She deflated, and I’d never felt like more of a piece of shit. I could tell she was biting back tears.
“But… But Nicolette is gone, Riot. She left. She’s not coming back and you’re never going to see her again.” Her words struck me in the chest. The assurance in her voice gave me pause.
“I know, Katie. AndI’msorry if Igaveyou the wrong impression here. I appreciate you more than you know butI’llnever be able to pursue a romantic relationship with you. AndI’vegottenthe impressionthat’swhat you might belookingfor.You’rean amazing woman and you deserve to be with someone who can love you as fiercely as you love them.”
A red flush colored her cheeks as she looked around. Her jaw worked up and down like she was trying to figure out something to say and this whole exchange was painful.
“Riot…” she started. She looked around again as if the answers were somewhere hidden in the old auto garage. Finally, something resolute passed over her face. Her shoulders rolled back, and she plastered her best Katie Plainbottom Smile on her face. “I appreciate you being honest with me.” For a second I thought she was going to stick out her hand for a handshake. But instead, she nodded once before turning on a heel and leaving the shop.
Iexpectedtears, if not perhaps a little more pleading. But Katieswallowedmy dismissal like itwasa college rejection letter.
I blew out a breath once she was gone. I shook my head, thankful that was over.
Half an hour later, the nose of Evan’s tow truckpulledin. I rose to help him when the front doorswungopen, almostshatteringwhen itbouncedoff the backstop.
“The fuck did you do to her, Asher!”Jeremy Blackwellstormedthrough the entrance andragedtoward me, the vein in his foreheadpopping. He didn’t slow down,stormingmy desk. Istood,toweringover him. A rush of blood and ten years in prison instantlyputme on the defense.
“What are you talking about, Jeremy?” I sighed, narrowing my eyes.
“Don’t play dumb with me, you piece of shit!”My blood rose.“What did you do to Nicolette?”
The sound of her namemademe pause.
“What are you talking about?” I repeated with more intention this time. “She left town Jeremy. Three days ago,” I added sullenly.
“On what, a bicycle? You know, ifyou’regoingtomake a habit ofmurderingwomen in this town, you really should learn to do a better job ofcoveringit up.Dumpingher car in the Valley? Not exactly pro status.”
What?
The window to the back impound lotsnatchedmy attention. Itparkedandloweredthe golden midsize sedan. I wouldrecognize that old relic anywhere. An anxious alarmsentthe hairs on my neck to attention.
I pushed past Jeremy, ignoring his warnings for me to stay put and sprinted around back. I was idly aware of his presence behind me but nothing could stop me. My chest slammed into the driver’s side door and I yanked it open.
My nostrils filled with her scent and it clouded my focus.
“Where did you find this?” I demanded, whipping around to face Evan.
Heappearedunperturbed. “A few hundred feet down the road from the Valley entrance. The guycalledit in after ithadbeensitting there since Sunday morning.
My blood went cold. “Sunday?” I tried to mask the rising panic in my voice but the fallout of last weekend suddenly didn’t seem important.
“They never saw the driver?”
Evan shrugged helplessly. “I just picked it up, man.”
I spun around and found myself face-to-face with Jeremy.
“You’re going to pretend like you know nothing about this?” he seethed, almost appearing to care.
“I swear, Jeremy. We fought. Saturday night. I kicked her out, and that was the last time I saw her.” I moved around to the passenger side and pulled the door open, sifting through papers on the seat there.
“You fought,” he repeated matter-of-factly. “Saturday night. Which means you were probably the last person to see her.”
I ignored him, my world coming to a shattering halt. I held up a picture of my dead mother on an exam table. What the fuck had she been looking into? Her frantic words from Saturday came rushing back to me.
Your mother. I went back over her autopsy report.
