Page 50 of These White Lies
I drag my hand back through my hair. It doesn’t matter how long the list of reasonswhyI need to stay away from her is. The fact remains, I like her. I like arguing with her, watching her attempt to hide her reaction when I push her buttons. Hell, I liked sitting in the car with her.
And that’s the problem. Ilikeher. Too much.
I sit back, exhaling slowly through my nose, and reach for the manila folder Sera left on the corner of my desk. Elizabeth’s name is typed across the top, a headshot photo taken from her website pinned to the front. I stop for a minute, staring at her.
“Enough,” I grumble and begin to read.
There’s nothing surprising in the dossier. The facts are all here: where she went to school, a timeline of how she built her business with her college sweetheart and husband, her divorce documents, when she bought her new home, etc. She doesn’t have massive debt or an arrest record. Valedictorian of her North Georgia high school, she’s the oldest of three. Her younger brother works in the parents’ successful florist shop, and her youngest sister is an elementary school teacher. They, along with what looks like a fairly extended family, still live near the small town where Elizabeth grew up.
The only thing I can see that possibly makes her a target are the lawsuits filed by former clients three years ago, alleging missing money from various trust accounts. From the settlement papers, it’s clear Elizabeth made full restitution, so there should be no reason for the plaintiffs to still be angry.
Plus, I don’t believe for one second Elizabeth took that money. From what she said about her ex, it’s not hard to connect the dots and see who the real thief had been.
But these documents contain only the facts. They don’t tell her whole story. It’s easy to read between the lines to what is missing. To see who she is.
Oldest daughter. The only one of her family to leave home. Married her first serious boyfriend, and then spent her twenties building a law practice. Her financial records show that after her divorce her income significantly dropped, but two years later, it surpassed the previous amount.
She must have worked her ass off.
“Burning all the time is exhausting.”
“I think I’d be happy to flicker. Be a happy little light but blaze when needed.”
I hate that the night at Carrow’s hadn’t had the lasting effect that she’d hoped, and I wonder if it’s because, instead of the fresh start she deserved after her divorce, she was hit with lawsuits.
Elizabeth’s been fighting for so long, she must have reached the point she forgot to take her armor off and live. It’s obvious in the way she keeps her guard up. The look on her face the first time I teased her. The surprise and joy before she course corrected. She should have more moments like that—moments where she lets herself have fun without worrying. A dull ache forms behind my ribs.
I could have Sera dig deeper. Have Finn hack into her friends’ and family’s social media, look for messages that might give us a clue, but it’s not necessary. I believe her. Elizabeth doesn’t know why this is happening. And if it were something obvious, she’s smart enough to have already recognized it.
Keith Gowan is the key.
And Carrow.
It can’t be a coincidence that Carrow’s ex-wife was brutally murdered during roughly the same timeframe—a supposed home invasion with a wiped-down crime scene. Bullshit.
I think back to Detective Simpson’s words at the hospital.
“These aren’t people to mess around with. Are they?”
I need to tell her the truth about the night we met.
Jogging lightly down the stairs, I glance to where I left Elizabeth and falter.
She’s lying in the recliner, head tipped to the side, one arm folded over her stomach. Her laptop rests forgotten on the adjustable table in front of her, the screen still glowing faintly. She’s out cold—probably a result of the meds.
I cross the room quietly. Just looking at her sleeping so peacefully makes something shift in my chest. Forcing my feet to walk past her, I join Finn at his console. Sera is sitting at the other station but doesn’t look up when I enter.
I’ll deal with her later.
“Need you to look into any connection you can find between Keith Gowan and the termLapidarists.”
At that, Sera’s head pops up. I haven’t told her much about my time undercover, for her own safety, but she knows the basics. I don’t like the fear in her eyes.
“Is she one of them?”
“No,” I snap. “It’s just a feeling. Look into it.”
I don’t wait for Finn to answer before returning to the main room and coming to a stop at the side of the recliner. She looks vulnerable like this. Softer.
