Of course the place was packed. Too late, Juniper considered all the people she might bump into during lunch break in February. But before she could duck back out the door, an older couple pushed in behind her, crowding the small entryway, and any hope of an easy escape was extinguished.
Thankfully, a quick scan of the restaurant didn’t immediately reveal any familiar faces, and she was able to order a tomato bisque and grilled cheese to go without any fanfare or fuss. While she waited, she slid her phone from her coat pocket and texted Everett.
Sorry, running late.
Grabbing lunch from Cunningham’s.
Want anything?
She watched for the three dots of an impending response, but they never came. Strange, since it was 12:10 and he was supposed to be meeting with her. But she didn’t have long to wonder about his silence, because only a few minutes later she was walking out with a greasy paper bag and a hot to-go cup in her hands.
Juniper sipped from the cup as she hurried toward the Jericho Police Station. It did much to fortify her as she prepared to meet with Everett on more formal ground. She didn’t know what to expect. Was this a routine Q&A? Or was Officer Stokes going to drop a bombshell? The thought of new evidence, of the Murphy case being cracked wide open and spilling secrets like a rotten egg, made Juniper’s pulse quicken. She just couldn’t decide if it was in anticipation or fear.
Juniper let herself in the front door of the police station and discovered a small, tiled entryway with a single, unassuming desk. No one was behind it. Against one wall was a line of four blue plastic chairs, and Juniper considered sitting there to wait, but the clock above the desk told her it was already twenty after twelve. She had to be back at the library at one so that Barry could take his lunch break, and she wasn’t going to be a minute late. She would not be indebted to Barry any further than she already was.
Instead of sitting down, Juniper walked around the desk and peered into the hallway behind it. “Hello?” she called. “Everett? Is anyone here?”
No answer. No movement at all. There had been a police cruiser parked in front of the squat building, but Juniper had no idea how many cars and officers Jericho employed, and frost on the windshield made it seem as if the cruiser had been parked there for a while. Maybe overnight.
“Hello?” she said again, louder this time. When there was still no answer, she started down the hall, peeking in the rooms that faced each other across the narrow space. A dark kitchenette with a stained coffeepot and a box of bakery donuts on the table. A small, messy office with piles of paper stacked on every available surface. Juniper had been here before, had been questioned in a conference room that she could barely remember because she had surely been in shock at the time. What had she said? She couldn’t even recall that. But no doubt Everett possessed a complete transcript and had pored over her every word. The thought made her angry.
“Officer Stokes?” Juniper called one last time, irritated that he had forgotten their appointment and that she would have to walk back in the cold without first having a chance to eat her grilled cheese and warm up a bit. But just as she spun on her heel to go, a door wrenched open at the very end of the hall.
“Juniper.” Everett gave her a half smile and eased the door shut to the room he had just vacated. “Sorry to make you wait. I was working on something and got caught up, I guess.”
“Jonathan’s case?”
His smile faded. “You’d be surprised at how busy we are. Jericho isn’t as innocent as it used to be.”
“It wasn’t innocent then.”
“Fair enough. Let’s meet in here. It’ll be easier for you to eat at a table while we talk.” Everett stepped across the hall and motioned that Juniper should follow him into the conference room. Juniper could picture it: Glass insert in the door. Two folding banquet tables pushed together, and cheap office chairs scattered around. It had smelled of Lysol and body odor the last time she had sat picking at a bit of snagged plastic on the arm of her swivel chair.
Juniper wanted to tell him no, but she walked dutifully over the threshold and plopped into the seat nearest the exit. She busied herself with taking the lid off her soup and unwrapping the grilled cheese from Cunningham’s while Everett retrieved a thick blue folder and a ballpoint pen and chose a spot across from her.
“Thanks for coming today,” he said by way of introduction. “Again, I’m sorry the front office wasn’t staffed. I’m alone here over the lunch hour.”
“No problem.” Juniper took a bite of her sandwich and wiped her fingers on a napkin. She hoped she appeared casual, collected. In reality she was feeling anything but. Talking to Everett had seemed innocuous when she agreed to it only yesterday, but now that she was in the same conference room where she had been interrogated about Jonathan, his connection to the Murphys, and his whereabouts on the night of Fourth of July, she had completely lost her appetite. Still, it would be telling if she left her food untouched. She took another bite.