The Unmaking of June Farrow(63)

“We’ve got a problem out here. Eamon just showed up.”

Tears filled my eyes, my lungs finally expanding. I resisted the urge to stand from the chair, hands twisting into my skirt. I could hear shouting down the hall and the familiar accent-laced rasp of Eamon’s voice found me.

“Speak of the devil.” Caleb said, flatly.

He hit the button on the recorder, making the turntables stop. The machine fell quiet as he got to his feet. “Something tells me this isn’t the last conversation we’ll be having. So, I’d appreciate it if you could stay where I can find you.”

“I will.”

The surface of Caleb’s entire countenance was rippling now, an ominous underbelly to the polite manners. “You be sure that you do.”

Sam opened the door, and I bumped the table as I stood, nearly knocking the box that held the shoe to the floor. I walked out, following the hallway back to the front desk.

Eamon’s voice grew louder. “You can tell me where the fuck she is.”

He stood on the other side of the glass barrier that separated the office from the waiting room. He was straight-backed and stern, his jacket collar pulled up around his jaw.

“Eamon.” Another officer had a hand in the air, a gesture that was meant to calm him down. But Eamon looked like he was coming out of his skin.

“Open the door, Paul.” Eamon wasn’t asking. “Now.”

Caleb pushed past me in the hallway, with Sam on his heels.

As soon as he spotted me, Eamon exhaled, an overwhelming relief visible on his face. But when his eyes focused on Caleb, his fury was back in spades. “What the hell is this?”

“I ran into June today and she graciously agreed to come in.” Caleb’s tone was infuriatingly even.

“Ran into her?” Eamon repeated. “You expect me to believe that?”

The officer Eamon had been shouting at slinked back, looking happy to be freed from Eamon’s attention, and I moved toward the open door, hardly able to blink back the tears.

“You should have brought her in yourself when she got back.” Caleb squared his shoulders to Eamon, and Sam was suddenly more alert, looking between them.

Eamon took one step forward, pointing a finger at the center of Caleb’s chest. “I told your father. Now I’m telling you,” he growled. “Stay away from my wife.”

Your father.

Eamon’s arm reached out for me, and I walked toward him, swallowing down the cry in my throat when his hand firmly found my waist, pulling me to his side. I didn’t look back as he guided me to the door and through the entrance of the courthouse. I couldn’t even feel my feet as we went down the steps.

“You all right?”

His voice was close to my ear, but I couldn’t speak. I stared at my feet until we could see the truck. A smudge of black marked the bricks behind the tires, and it was parked crooked along the curb, like he’d pulled in too fast and slammed on his brakes. Esther must have gone straight to get him.

He opened my door, and I lifted myself inside as the courthouse doors opened again. Caleb stepped out, watching as we pulled away.

“What the hell was that?” I choked out, wiping at my cheeks as the first furious tears began to fall.

Eamon lifted a hand as if to reach for me again, but he stopped himself with some effort, placing it back on the wheel. “What did he say?”

I sniffed, trying to catch my breath.

“June. What did he say?”

“He wasn’t just taking statements, Eamon. He thinks we had something to do with Nathaniel’s murder. He asked where I was that night. Where you were.”

“What did you say?”

“Esther told me to tell him we were home all night.”

He nodded, letting out a breath. “Good. What else?”

“How could you just lie to me?”

“I knew they wanted to talk to you, but I hoped you wouldn’t be here long enough for this to catch up to us,” he snapped. “Did he say anything else?”

I put my face into my hands, trying to breathe. “They found a shoe and they think it was mine? I don’t know.”

If he reacted, I couldn’t see it. I pinched my eyes closed, trying to erase myself from the moment. There had been several minutes in that room when I thought I might not leave it.

“A woman said she saw me that night. They think I’m involved, Eamon.”

But Caleb hadn’t been interested only in me. I looked at Eamon from the corner of my eye. Caleb had really wanted to know about him. And if what I said was true and he’d left early that night . . .

“He wants to see the letter my mother wrote me saying that she was sick.”

Eamon scoffed, shaking his head. “Of course he does.”

“I have to get out of here. Tonight. I can go to Asheville or Charlotte. Wait for the door to reappear.”

“No. You leave and he’ll be on the phone to every police station within three states telling them to look for you.” When I said nothing, he ran a hand through his hair. “He doesn’t have anything real on you. If he did, you wouldn’t have walked out of that station. And you might be able to run from this, but we can’t. We’re stuck here.”

I looked at him. When he’d said we, he was talking about Annie.