Chapter Fifteen SCARLETT

Chapter Fifteen

S CARLETT

Sunday, July 14, 2024

8:00 a.m.

My morning run was rough. My legs were stiff and my back ached, and both fought me for the first couple of miles. The heat of the day was already rising, and humidity quickly soaked my jog top with sweat.

As I moved down the side streets near Lito’s, where I’d met Luke last night, I shoved down a surge of anger and disappointment. After my crazed exit from our date, he’d have been wise to write me off as unstable.

Normally, I didn’t care about a date gone sideways. He wouldn’t be the first man who’d seen me lose my composure. One guy had called me “batshit crazy.” I’d blown up my share of dates and never once looked back. But still. Luke had been nice. And I kind of liked him.

I ran past the restaurant, stopped, and searched his name on my phone. His office was close, so I ran in that general direction. Shoving the phone back in my pocket, I dashed past several side streets and looked up and saw the 2317 Building. I paused, resting my hands on my hips, and stared up at the five-story brick building. I didn’t get this way very often. So close, but I never ventured this far northeast because it wasn’t the safest area. Made me wonder what kind of people Luke defended. But innocent until proven guilty, right?

I tugged on the front door and was surprised it opened. Inside, I searched the directory and discovered Luke Kane & Associates was on the fifth floor. I was sweating and my scent bordered on ripe. Not exactly sexy. But maybe that was a good thing.

I punched the elevator button, and as I waited, I fluffed my shirt, trying to dry out the sweat. The doors opened, I stepped inside, and the ride to the top took seconds.

When the doors opened again, I walked down the hallway past darkened offices, toward the one with a light on. It was Luke’s. My heart thumped faster as I took a step back from the door and glanced toward the elevator. I could leave now. End all this and return to my life.

Instead, I tried the doorknob, which twisted, and slowly, I pushed open the door. The outer office was decorated with modern furniture fashioned out of metal and glass. There was a receptionist desk topped with clean, sparkling glass, and a low midcentury-modern couch and two chairs gathered around a coffee table. No magazines. Luke either didn’t like to keep his clients waiting or he didn’t care to entertain them. A partly opened door led to an office. I shifted, ready to leave. The floor creaked.

“Is someone out there?” Luke’s deep voice drifted from the office.

Shit.

Why was I here? Dawson’s visit and my own trip to Tiffany’s apartment had rattled the foundation of my carefully curated life. I wasn’t sure why, but I needed to prove to myself that the past didn’t matter as much and I still had a chance at a normal life.

I cleared my throat, walked up to the door, and pushed it open slowly.

Luke sat behind a long glass desk covered with piles of neatly stacked papers. Bookshelves were filled with leather-bound law books. Four sleek chairs encircled a round conference table.

When he looked up, he didn’t seem to recognize me at first, but quickly the tumblers fell into place. He stood. “Scarlett.”

I remained in the middle of the room. “I figured out that your office was in the 2317 Building.”

He didn’t speak, but his gaze remained squarely on me.

“I wasn’t planning on stopping by, but I was out for a run, and I realized I was close.”

Again, he said nothing.

I took a small step toward him. “I’m sorry I flaked on you last night.” Drawing in a breath, I wondered if he thought I was as unbalanced as I probably looked and sounded. “I thought I saw someone on the street, and I kind of freaked out.”

“Why?”

I ran my hand over my slicked-back ponytail. “That’s a long story. I have a kind of weird past and sometimes it comes back to bite me. Kind of a PTSD thing.” I managed a thin smile. “I just wanted you to know I’m sorry.”

When he didn’t speak, I turned to leave. I was nearly at the threshold when he said, “Thanks for stopping by.”

I faced him. “I owed you that much.”

“You really didn’t.”

“I kind of did. Again, apologies.”

“Want to try again?” His tone was casual, but his body language radiated authority and confidence.

Did I want to try again? That had to be a yes—I was here. But another attempt would mean a greater level of intimacy. Shit. Nothing had changed. I was still so easily freaked out. “I would.”

A brow arched. “You don’t look convinced.”

“I am.”

He regarded me a moment. “Drinks? Dinner?”

“You pick.”

“How about dinner? I know a restaurant located on a quiet side street. And there are plenty of marked exits if you need to make a break for it.”

His easy charm disarmed me a fraction. “I like lots of exits. Where?”

“Ben’s?” He came around the desk, moving slowly toward me but stopping a few feet short.

“I know the place.”

His hand slid in his pocket. “Try for six tonight?”

“I can do that.”

“Meet you there, or do you want me to pick you up?”

“I’ll meet you there.”

“Fair enough. Maybe you can tell me a little something about this PTSD.”

“Better, just google my name. There’s more on the internet about me than you’ll ever want to know. Key in 2014 .” I fished my phone out of my pocket and held it out to him. “Text yourself a note from my phone. Then we’ll both have each other’s number.”

He typed in a text. “I won’t change my mind.”

“Google me first. I won’t blame you.”

He handed me back the phone. “See you at six.”

I was feeling a tad more optimistic when I left Luke’s. Instead of going home, I swung by a bakery, picked up a dozen doughnuts, and drove to the Judge’s house.

I knocked, and when she opened the front door, I held up the box of doughnuts. The Judge was already dressed, hair done and makeup applied. I’d often joked she slept this way. “You said anytime.”

She motioned me inside. “And I meant it.”

“I’m kind of sweaty. I was out for a run.”

“Ah, something is bothering you.”

“Maybe a little.” I walked down the center hallway and set the doughnuts on the marble countertop next to an open copy of the Washington Post .

The Judge removed china covered in roses, as well as cloth napkins and forks from a drawer. Only the Judge ate a doughnut with a fork. She filled a rose-trimmed cup with coffee for me and topped off her own.

I opened the box and turned it toward her. I’d selected six glazed, two powdered, and four chocolates—all three were her favorites. She selected a glazed.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about Della,” I said.

The Judge opened her napkin as she sat at the barstool by the island. Carefully, she smoothed the napkin over her lap. “Why? That was a decade ago.”

I selected a doughnut and set it on the rose-trimmed plate. “You know a Detective Kevin Dawson?”

She frowned. “I do.”

“That sounds ominous. What does that mean?”

She shrugged. “Let’s say he cut a few corners to help his ex-wife. He’s lucky to have his job. Why are you asking about him?”

“He came to my warehouse.” I explained about his questioning and the discovery of Sandra’s body. “He thinks Tanner might have killed her.”

The Judge nodded slowly, sipping coffee. “I wouldn’t bet against that. What does Sandra Taylor have to do with Della?”

“I searched Sandra on the internet. She went to East Norfolk High School like me. We were there at the same time. She was two years ahead of me. She also worked at Mike’s Diner and vanished about two months before me.”

“And?”

I pinched a piece of doughnut and popped it in my mouth. I wasn’t a fan of sweets and found it cloying. But I was trying to think my thoughts through before I tossed them at the Judge. “What if she was the Other Girl, the one Della talked about?”

She sighed. “Keep talking.”

“I went by Tiffany’s yesterday. I thought I’d find her, but she’s been gone for days.”

She angled the edge of her fork through the soft doughnut. “Tiffany. Are you still trying to help her?”

“Yes. I feel like I owe her. And I feel like she needs my help.”

“You saved her life.”

“She’s not doing well. Last I saw her, she was so high she could barely focus.”

“That’s not your fault.”

“But I helped Tanner. I was willing—”

She laid her hand on mine. I stared at the dark, wrinkled hand that exuded so much quiet confidence. “You saved her life.”

“But she’s in a bad place and has been for a while. Did I contribute to her issues?”

“We all make our own choices, Scarlett.”

“I chose to move toward Tanner’s open van door because I wanted validation. I also chose to lure Tiffany toward the same van so I could escape.”

“You suffered greatly, but you didn’t let him break you. Tiffany might have always been broken and is using you to justify her own self-destruction.”

“Maybe.”

“No maybe about it.”

I hesitated before the next confession. “I saw a woman twice in the last couple of days. Her hair was short and blond, but she reminded me of Della.”

The Judge exhaled. She’d defended me to the cops when I’d filed reports swearing that I’d seen Della. She’d likely ended up with egg on her face for it.

“I know it’s a little messed up,” I said. “But maybe if I find Tiffany and I can help her, I can finally let it all go.”

She understood I wasn’t seeking her approval. I needed her help locating Tiffany. “Would it help you if I asked around about her?”

“Could you?”

“I know a few cops who can shake the bushes.”

“That would be great.”

“What’re you going to say to her?”

“I don’t know. She called me but didn’t leave a message. She’s reaching out, and I feel like I need to help her.”

“And then what? What if she doesn’t stay clean?”

“I don’t know. Maybe she will this time and maybe I can finally forgive myself.”

The Judge’s expression softened. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

“I wish I could believe that.”