Page 17 of Bourbon Bliss
“Yeah? Something good or something bad?”
“Just work,” I lied. Why was I lying to my sister? “It’s not good or bad. It’s essentially neutral.”
“All right. You just seem a bit distracted, is all. You sure you’re okay?”
“I believe so, yes.”
Except I wasn’t. I’d lost count of the seconds my tea needed to steep. I looked down at the swirl of tea-brown emanating from the bag, mixing with the clear water. How long had it been? Why had I stopped counting? I could count and think at the same time. What was wrong with me?
I dunked my tea bag a few times and tried to judge by the color whether it was ready. I decided it needed an additional sixty seconds and began the countdown again.
“I heard there’s a famous football player in town,” she said. “Did you hear about that? Do you know who it is?”
“George Thompson, known as GT Thompson professionally,” I said before I could stop myself. “Two Superbowl wins with Philadelphia. Over ten thousand six hundred career yards. Eighty-two touchdowns.”
“Wow, I guess you do know.” Cassidy’s eyes lit up and her mouth turned in a smile. “I thought he was one of your favorites. Have you seen him? You should get his autograph.”
“Why would I want his autograph?”
“Oh, you know. Sometimes fans like to get an autograph as a keepsake.”
I nodded. Of course I knew that. I had a small sports memorabilia collection at home—mostly things Dad had given me for birthday and Christmas gifts. In fact, one of my favorite items happened to be my Thompson jersey.
But the thought of seeking him out—on purpose—sent a flurry of nerves fluttering through my belly. So far, I hadn’t been sick, as one would expect after ingesting a harmful strain of bacteria. Perhaps it wasn’t food poisoning after all. But if it wasn’t an ailment caused by microorganisms, what was the cause of my intermittent stomach upset?
Instead of addressing the suggestion that I get an autograph from George—or admitting that I’d already met him several times—I decided to change the subject.
“How are things at work?” I asked.
“Mostly great. It’s so much better now that Connelly is gone. I don’t feel like I have to defend my ability to do my job every day. But the Callie Kendall investigation is… tricky.”
“How so?” I asked. The Callie Kendall disappearance had always been a source of mild interest for me, although I didn’t share the town’s obsession with the mystery. Statistically speaking, it was unlikely we’d ever find out the truth. Not after nearly thirteen years.
She took a deep breath. “The forensics report on Connie Bodine’s car came back. I thought it might shed some light on how she died—whether her accident was really an accident. But Juney, they found fingerprints in her car and I’m terrified of what’s going to happen when word gets out.”
“They found Callie Kendall’s fingerprints, I presume.”
Her eyes darted around and she nodded.
I blinked, letting this new piece of information sink in. “That means Callie was in her car.”
She nodded. “Most of the prints match the Bodines, obviously—the parents and the kids. But there were some that didn’t match the Bodines and on a whim, I asked them to run them against Callie’s. There were at least two that were a match.”
No wonder Cassidy looked stressed. Her job and her relationship with Bowie Bodine had intersected on the uncomfortable topic of whether Bowie’s father—and perhaps, his mother—was involved in Callie’s disappearance.
“Where were they found?” I asked.
“Passenger seat.”
“Could there be an alternative explanation that doesn’t implicate the Bodines in her disappearance?”
“It’s possible Connie gave her a ride somewhere. You know how Bootleg parents are—parenting everyone’s kids, not just their own, when they need to. But Scarlett doesn’t remember her mom driving Callie anywhere. Neither do the others. It’s still possible it’s a coincidence, but…”
“Unlikely.”
“Right,” she said. “I talked to Bowie and the rest of the family. They’re concerned, of course. I’m trying to keep this quiet so we don’t get a media circus every time there’s a bit of evidence that pops up.”
“That’s a prudent choice.”
