“Brianna—”
But the line is dead.
I stare down at the phone. I’m itching to call the police, but I don’t know what I would say. I don’t even know where Brianna lives. A woman is being followed by another woman, but I’m not sure where she is. Yeah, they’d get on that right away.
I sit back down on the sofa, but I can’t relax. I keep waiting for Brianna’s call.
And I wait.
And wait.
Thirty minutes later, it’s painfully obvious I’m not going to hear from Brianna. I dial her number, but nobody answers. She never made it home. April got to her first.
I have to tell the police, but what can I say? I wish she had told me where she lived. I get the feeling it isn’t a great neighborhood.
I look in my phone contacts. There’s only one person I could call at this hour who could help me. I select Riley Hanrahan’s number.
I hesitate for a moment, feeling a little awkward about calling him. A year ago, after he helped me get that information about Courtney Burns, I then told him everything was fine and I didn’t want to pursue it further. He realized something was up, and he sent me a few more text messages to make sure I was okay. He even tried calling. But I didn’t take the call.
Still, there’s nobody else I can talk to about this.
“Jules?” His voice sounds muffled. “Is that you?”
“Um, yeah…”
“Geez, it’s been a while.” He yawns. “What’s up?”
“I… I’m sorry. Were you sleeping?”
He hesitates. “A little. What’s wrong?”
It’s such a relief to tell somebody else the entire story. I start at the beginning and ramble on for several minutes. It sounds crazy, even to my own ears. But Riley is silent on the other line, listening. I get to the part about Brianna being followed by April, and then the purpose of the call: “I think April did something to her.”
“Jesus Christ, Jules,” Riley mutters. “You really took the law into your own hands. I think you need to get back to work. Or else… I don’t know… get a dog or something.”
I feel a lump in my throat. “You don’t believe me…”
“Of course I believe you. I just wish you would’ve called me sooner.”
My shoulders sag. “Will you help me?”
“Yeah, I’ll do my best.” He grunts on the other line. “This isn’t my… you know, jurisdiction. But I’ll work it out. Just hang tight. Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll call you later tonight.”
“Thanks, Riley.”
But I have a horrible feeling it’s too late.
_____
The phone wakes me up at one in the morning.
I’m lying in bed next to Keith, but I’m not asleep. I’m lying awake, staring at the ceiling. Keith is about three feet away from me, as far as he could possibly be while still in the same bed, and he’s snoring up a storm. He has horrible sleep apnea, but he refuses to wear the CPAP machine that his doctor prescribed. Most nights, I sneak into the guest room and sleep there. Besides snoring like a chainsaw, Keith is also a bed hog. I prefer to sleep alone.
But tonight, I want company. I can’t stop thinking of Brianna’s last phone call to me. What happened to her? I called Maria to see if April had shown up to the book club, and apparently, they had turned her away. God knows where she went after that.
Keith rolls over in bed and the phone starts ringing. His eyes spring open. “Who the hell is calling in the middle of the night?”
I snatch up the phone before Keith can see the name on the screen. He knows exactly who Riley Hanrahan is, and he won’t be happy to see that name pop up on my phone. “Sorry. I’ll go to the other room.”
Keith grumbles something and punches his pillow with his hand. I take the phone outside before I press the green button.
“Riley?” I whisper.
“Hey, Jules.” His voice is low, almost a whisper like mine. “Sorry it’s late.”
“Did you find her?”
“Yeah.” He heaves a sigh. “She’s dead, Jules.”
The room starts to spin. I lean against the wall and sink onto my knees. “What happened to her?” I manage.
“I shouldn’t be talking about this,” he murmurs. “I’d get in a lot of trouble.”
“I’ve stuck my neck out for you too,” I remind him.
“Yeah, I know.” Back when I was at the DA’s office, we worked together a lot. We shared information not everybody got to know. I trusted him. He trusted me. “We found her lying behind some trash bins. It looks like she was hit repeatedly in the head with a blunt object, but we won’t know for sure until the autopsy.”
“Oh my God,” I breathe.
“Look,” Riley says, “I gotta be honest with you. I know you think April Masterson did this, but I don’t know. It would have taken a lot of force. That Masterson woman doesn’t look like she has it in her.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “She has it in her. Trust me.”
“I don’t know.” I imagine him scrunching up his brow, the way he always did when he was deep in thought. “Anyway, like I said, I could get in a lot of trouble for calling you like this. So this is the last time. But we’ll probably have you come in tomorrow to talk to us on the record about your phone call with Brianna.”
“You’re staying on the case?”
“Yeah. I got approval.”
“Good.”
There’s a long silence on the other line. “Be careful, will you, Jules?”
“I will.”
“Don’t do anything crazy. Your part is done. You’re not a prosecutor anymore. We got this.”
“I know.”
He lets out a sigh like he doesn’t entirely believe me. “Good night, Jules.”
“Goodnight, Riley.” I grip the phone tighter. “Thanks… for…”
“Yeah,” he says.
We hang up the phone, and I just sit there on the floor, shaking. I sit there so long, I drift to sleep in that position.
Chapter 53
I’m not going to lie. I’m not blameless.
Maybe I am partially responsible for what happened to Brianna. Maybe I drove April crazy with my text messages and the comments on her videos. Maybe sending her that photograph of her shoplifting was what drove her over the edge.
I regret a lot.
I spend most of the morning sitting in the kitchen, contemplating what I’ve done. I thought I was serving justice to April. But that’s not what I’ve done at all. And now there’s nothing I can do to fix it. Riley is right—I’m not a DA anymore. I’m a housewife who is completely out of my element. I need to stay out of it. All I can do is sit here and hope Riley has enough to pin the murder on her. So she doesn’t get off scot-free yet again.
I’ve opened up a pint of ice cream. It’s this ice cream with little blondie bits in it and a core inside of salted caramel. It’s one of the best things I’ve ever tasted. I’ve already eaten half a pint. Each spoonful has about five-hundred calories. I don’t care.
“Julie?”
Keith is standing in the middle of the living room. I look up in surprise. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen my husband in the middle of the day.