“My parents own most of Nutmeg,” Church explains, looking at me as he sips his coffee. I already heard that from the twins, but I’m interested anyway. I want to know more. “They want the whole town.”
“Why?” I ask, and Church blinks at me like he doesn't quite understand the question. “I mean, isn't the local flavor part of the appeal? Like the diner for example, why not just let Merinda buy it from you? She clearly does all the work.”
“It's complicated,” Church says, turning away suddenly and frowning. He looks out the rear windows, toward the patio area, as I poke at my tart with a fork.
“May I?” Ranger asks, pilfering a clean fork from behind the counter. He lifts it up in question, and I nod, pushing my plate his direction so he can grab a bite. He chews thoughtfully, and then raises both brows. “Not bad. The flavors are there. The crust could use a little work though. It's a bit dry.”
“This is my grandmother's recipe,” Jeff snarls, spinning around. He looks like a different person with that awful expression. “And there's nothing wrong with her goddamn crust. Now, I've told you once before, and I'll tell you again: I don't know what happened to your sister. I liked Jenica, and I was devastated when she passed. Leave me the fuck alone.”
“Then what the hell is this?” Ranger asks, reaching down to pull the gold key out from inside his shirt. It takes me a moment to figure out why he’s showing the key to Jeff. Then it hits me. Of course! How did I miss that?
Jenica’s ‘suicide’ note was addressed to JR.
Jeffrey Rabot.
I doubt I’m the first person to make that connection, probably why they all hate Jeff so much.
“Like I’m supposed to know what that is,” Jeff says, handing Ranger his soda. There are thunderclouds in his blue eyes, and he looks precariously close to kicking us all out of his store. “What does a key have to do with me?”
“Well, we both know the last note my sister ever wrote was addressed to a 'JR'. There were only three students attending Adamson at the time with those initials, and the other two had little contact with Jenica. But not you. You were 'friends'.” Ranger releases the key, letting it swing back down against his chest as he makes little quotes with his fingers.
“I'm sorry Jenica felt so alone, and so lost, that she did what she did, but I've told you this before—I've told the investigators this before—that I don't know anything about any note. We were casual friends, not nearly close enough that she'd dedicate her suicide note to me.”
“It wasn't a suicide note,” Ranger growls, his voice this terrifying note that's very clearly directed at Jeff.
“According to the detectives, it was.”
Ranger stands up suddenly, and there's so much fury in him that it's scary. I wonder why they didn't mention that JR could be Jeff before? Spencer moves up on Ranger's other side while the twins appear on either side of me, putting huge stacks of books on the counter.
“Ring us up, Rabot,” they say in unison. Jeff takes their books with a scowl and starts writing down prices on his carbon tablet.
“If I find out you know more than you’re saying, I swear to fuck, I will come back here and beat your ass,” Ranger says, and Jeff scoffs.
“I've heard that before, Woodruff.” He looks up and his pale blue eyes meet Ranger's sapphire ones. “I don't know anything about your sister. Now, please take your things and go before I call the police. At least the Montagues don't own them just yet.”
“No, but we own everything else. If you hadn’t noticed, my parents have no problem getting what they want.” Church rises to his feet, taking his coffee with him. The tension in that room is thick enough to cut with a knife. On the surface, it seems obvious why that is. But it feels like there's something else, something hiding just beneath the ripples that I haven't figured out just yet.“Why didn't you guys tell me that Jeff's last name was Rabot?” I ask as we sit in the back of a limo, and I try not to squirm. There's no way to get from the academy into town without a car, not unless you're prepared to walk, oh, like sixty miles of wilderness. And the school itself doesn't provide transportation of any sort. None of that matters though since every student there (except me) is richer than sin. I'm not sure whose limo this is, or where it came from, but when the boys call, a car shows up. It's like magic. Magic fueled by cold, hard cash.
“There's a lot you don't know,” Ranger says, sitting kitty-corner from me on the posh seats, his eyes faraway and clouded with details from the past. He blinks to clear the cobwebs and looks up at me. “I've been looking into her death for years with no luck. It'll take time to fill you in on all my dead-end leads. I just thought …” Ranger exhales and closes his eyes. “I thought maybe if I showed Jeff that key …”
