“I’m fine, Mom, really. Go to bridge. I’m just going to sit here and continue with this research.”
Holman, either out of endearing solidarity or bewildering insensitivity, had been emailing me research assignments to do while I was laid up. He called or came by every day to check on me under the guise of seeing how the projects were coming along, but really I think he just wanted to know I was getting better. I also like to think he missed me. Either way it had been nice because he’d become my main source of information on how the case against Jack Krisanski was proceeding.
The latest was that Lindsey Davis had filed two counts of murder in the first degree and two counts of attempted murder against Jack. He was still recovering in the burn unit and apparently would be there for some time. Holman said he had lawyered up and was now not talking much to Carl or any of the other authorities. Still, Carl had a mountain of evidence against him and expected Jack would spend the rest of his days in prison.
It appeared as though Brandon Laytner didn’t have anything to do directly with Bennett’s or Arthur’s death, but would probably still face charges for failure to report a crime, depending on what he knew and when he knew it. The prosecutor was planning to offer Jack a deal of some kind to get him to spill about Brandon’s involvement. Holman also told me that on a tip from David Davenport, the FDA opened an investigation into Invigor8’s patent development research. I had a sneaking suspicion that whatever they turned up would put an end to Brandon Laytner’s bid for pharmaceutical fame.
Libby Nichols had also dropped by my parents’ house the day after I got out of the hospital. She said she wanted to see how I was doing and thank me for “getting to the bottom of what happened.” Jack Krisanski had killed both her husband and her lover—but more significantly, the father of her unborn child. “Yup. I’m pregnant,” she told me, “I found out for sure three days ago.” She also said she’d decided not to have the baby’s paternity tested because “It doesn’t really matter, now does it?” Bennett’s life insurance policy would go a long way toward helping her on the road to rebuilding her life and her independence. “Ironically, I have more to live for now than I ever had before.”
It was four o’clock and my mom had finally agreed to leave the house to go play bridge with her regular group, and Dad had run to the store to get more apple cider, so when the doorbell rang, I was surprised. Holman didn’t usually stop by till after work. I hobbled to the door and almost fell over (quite literally) when I saw Jay standing on my parents’ doorstep.
We hadn’t seen each other since the night he told me he was moving to DC. While I was in the hospital he’d called to see if he could come by, but I told him I didn’t think that was a good idea. Him leaving was as inevitable as it was painful, so I didn’t see any point in getting even closer. It would just make it even worse. Holman told me he’d been texting every day to get an update on how I was doing.
I opened the door standing on one leg, holding onto the frame to steady myself. “Hi.”
“Hi.” His eyes held mine for a few seconds until they flicked down to my leg and the huge brace around it. “Oh my gosh, you should be sitting—I’m sorry, let me help.” He moved to put his shoulder under my arm and help me back to my couch.
“I’m fine,” I said, pulling away. I hopped, looking ridiculous I’m sure, back to the sofa and sat down.
He sat on the ottoman directly in front of me. “I hope it’s okay that I came by,” he said.
It wasn’t, but what was I going to say? Seeing you is painful. I totally understand why you chose your career over our relationship but it still hurts. I’m scared I’m not strong enough to say goodbye twice. I went with, “Yeah, it’s fine.”
“I’m leaving today.”
I nodded. “Oh.”
“And I just wanted to see you before I go.”
I looked down.
“Riley,” he started to say, then reached over to grab one of my hands. “You know I wish things didn’t have to be like this.”
“I know.”
“And you know that DC is only a couple of hours away, you could go there, I could come here . . .”
I let my eyes float up to his and cocked my head to the side. We’d been over this. A long-distance relationship didn’t make any sense, because I was never going to move to DC and he was never going to move here. “Jay—” I began.
“I know,” he said before I could reiterate what we’d already been through. He leaned back and exhaled loudly. “It just sucks, that’s all.”
“It sure does.”
We sat in silence for a few moments, neither of us knowing what to say or what to do next. His phone vibrated and he took it out of his back pocket, glanced at it, and looked back up at me, his eyes wide. “Well, this is unexpected.”
“What?”
“They’ve just made an arrest in the vandalism incident at Rosalee’s.”
It had been nearly two weeks since someone had thrown a hammer through the front window at the café, and Carl and his deputies hadn’t had any leads on who had done it or why, as far as I’d heard. “And?” I asked.
“A local thug by the name of Justin Balzichek, but that’s
