“More likely. Sterling’s wife left him last year. Took the kids. He hates everyone now. But I guess that’s nothing new.” Cora looked thoughtful for a moment. “Sullivan? If Ashley is upset that you’re back, maybe he’s defending her?”
Juniper went very still. Cora didn’t know about her relationship with Sullivan, and she didn’t want to let a single detail slip. As far as Cora was concerned, Ashley’s animosity toward Juniper could be chalked up to June’s relentless assertion of the Tates’ culpability. It had nothing to do with Willa, or what Sullivan had once meant to her. “Maybe?” Juniper said, hoping her hesitancy was understandable, given the circumstances. “I don’t think he’d jeopardize his family that way. They seem solid.”
Cora lifted one shoulder. “Depends on your definition of solid. If you ask me, Ashley is a bit unbalanced. Besides, she has a lot on her plate. I believe their oldest is ten and the baby is still in diapers.”
Sullivan’s oldest isn’t ten, she’s almost fourteen. The thought came unbidden, and Juniper banished it immediately.
Cora snapped her fingers. “You know who you need to talk to?”
Juniper was numb and jarred by the sudden conversational pivot, but Cora didn’t seem to notice. The older woman shuffled behind her desk and started tapping away at the computer. After a few seconds she turned the monitor toward Juniper.
“India Abbot,” she said with something that sounded like pride.
“India?” Juniper was shocked out of her stupor by the glossy main page of Jericho Unscripted. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Oh, no. She’s something else. You’d love her.”
“I met her,” Juniper said. “At Mom and Tot Hour.”
Cora wrinkled her nose as if she smelled something unpleasant. “She comes off a bit ditzy, but the girl graduated from UCLA and is working on her capstone project for a master’s in psychology. She’s great. Seriously.”
“Jericho Unscripted? It’s a little Real Housewives, if you ask me.” Juniper held out both hands, palms up toward the computer screen as if it were all the evidence she needed.
“It’s ironic. India’s really bright. She went to a crime-solving convention last fall where the attendees dove deep into a cold case and tried to solve it over a weekend. India came home with an embroidered deerstalker hat because she did the most to advance the case.” Cora paused, taking in Juniper’s obvious skepticism. “You know, deerstalker because—”
“Sherlock, I get it.” Juniper’s mind was whirling. Crime-solving convention? Surely she’d found her podcaster. But she had a hard time reconciling the sparkly young woman at Mom & Tot Hour with: I’m going to prove that bastard Jonathan Baker did it. What did India have against Jonathan?
“Don’t be judgmental,” Cora chastised her, oblivious to what Juniper was really thinking. “Give her a chance. I think she could help you with your vandal and…”
“And what?”
“And Jericho’s own cold case. You haven’t let it go, June. Don’t pretend that you have. I think you’re right to believe that Jonathan’s accident has something to do with what happened to the Murphys.”
“I never told you that,” Juniper said quietly.
“You didn’t have to.”
Juniper held Cora’s steady gaze. Her mentor and friend had never steered her wrong before, but Juniper was annoyed that her instinct had been so off about India. She was usually a very good judge of character. “Fine,” Juniper said eventually. “Give me her contact info. I’ll reach out tonight.”
Cora’s eyes glinted. “I think you’ll hit it off.”
“We’ll see.” Juniper tried to give Cora a stern look, but the woman was already scrawling on an index card. Apparently, Cora knew India’s number by heart. Juniper couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy—and irritation. What secrets had Cora unknowingly shared with the woman who seemed hell-bent on ruining Jonathan?
“Here.” Cora slid the card to her. “Be open-minded. India might be just what you’ve been waiting for.”
Juniper sincerely doubted it, but she took the number and stuck it in the back pocket of her jeans.
* * *
Around lunchtime, Juniper realized that she hadn’t eaten a single thing all day. Hustling Willa out the door and then dealing with the drama of her slashed tires had made food a moot point, but by noon her stomach felt hollow and the room swayed gently when she stood. She had promised to meet Everett at twelve but decided a few minutes wouldn’t make a difference since she would be late anyway. Although Barry had offered to lend her his car again, she assured him she needed the fresh air and would enjoy the walk. She stumbled into Cunningham’s half-frozen with cold, a stiff wind at her back, and her fingertips blue after only a few blocks.