Page 117 of Bourbon Bliss
Who knew I’d be hoping to get lucky on prom night again?
Plans were in place. We had the venue, thanks to Bowie. Entertainment, thanks to Gibson and his band. Leah Mae was heading up the decorating committee. Cassidy and Jonah had volunteered to organize refreshments, along with Sonny Fullson, who was bringing the moonshine. When the prom was for grown-ups, spiked punch wasn’t optional—it was expected.
Everything was falling in line. Until June threw one last curve ball at me, just two days before the prom.
“I knew it,” she said, staring at her laptop screen.
She sat at the dining table with a neat stack of romance novels, her laptop, and a steaming mug of tea.
“You knew what?”
Looking up from the screen, she met my eyes. “Callie Kendall is a fake. It’s not her.”
I let that sink in for a moment while I slid into the chair across from her. “No shit?”
“I just got the results from the genetics lab. The sample I supplied is not a match for Callie Kendall. It’s not her, George. I was right.”
“Wow.” I wasn’t sure what else to say. June had taken the hair right off that woman’s head. Like she’d said, DNA evidence wouldn’t lie.
“Yes, wow, and many other exclamations of surprise and triumph.”
“Are you going to pass that on to Cassidy?”
“Yes, but…”
“But what?”
I could see the wheels turning, something going on in that big brain of hers. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing in this particular case.
“DNA evidence is conclusive, but… it’s not enough.”
“Not enough? You said DNA won’t lie. This proves she’s not Callie. You were right. You can turn this into the police and they can reopen the investigation into the real Callie’s disappearance. What more do you want?”
“I want to talk to her.”
“Talk to who?” I asked.
“The Callie impostor.”
“Oh, June Bug,” I said. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? She’s a woman pretending to be a missing girl. She’s obviously not right. What if she’s dangerous?”
“That’s why I’m bringing you.”
“Whoa, slow down there, Sherlock,” I said. “Maybe it’s time you hang up your cap and trench coat and let the law handle it.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because people cared.”
“Of course people cared,” I said, still not comprehending what she meant.
She took a deep breath. “I didn’t understand it before. Why did we keep those posters up for so many years? Why bother? The chance of Callie ever being found alive diminished with every passing year, but that didn’t matter to Bootleg. We still held out hope. I never realized how important that was. How deeply these events are woven into the fabric of who we are.”
“All right, I’m with you.”
“Bootleg is made up of people who won’t stop caring, no matter the odds. And this woman stomped all over that. I have to know why. I don’t understand what could have motivated her to do this.”
