Page 21 of Little Bitter Truths
Iparked near the entrance of the coroner’s office the next day and stepped out of my car, the late afternoon sun warm against my shoulders as I made my way toward the entrance.Once inside, it wasn’t long before I noticed something was off.Most of the time when I visited, the first thing I heard when I entered the building was music.And not just any music, ’90s metal, echoing down the hallway.
Today I was met with silence.
I walked toward Silas’s office and found his door open.Inside, I found him kicked back in his chair behind the desk, his bare feet crossed on top of it, gaze fixed on the ceiling.
“No music today?”I said from the doorway.“I’m shocked.”
He turned toward me.“Oh, hey, Gigi.”
I stepped into the room and closed the door behind me.“What’s going on?Something’s off.I can tell.”
He removed his feet from the desk and sat up.“I was just thinking about my sister.Her name’s Piper, but I’ve called her Pip since we were kids.”
“Has something happened?”
“She was hit while riding her bike in Los Angeles this morning.”
“Is she?—”
“Alive?Yes.She has a broken arm, a couple of cracked ribs, and a concussion.But she’s going to be okay.”
A feeling of relief washed over me.“I’m glad to hear it.”
“Me too.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then Silas rubbed the back of his neck.
“You ever have one of those moments where the phone rings, and before you even answer it, you already know something’s wrong?”he asked.“And then someone tells you something you don’t want to hear, and everything in your body goes cold.”
“I know the feeling.The day Fallon died was the worst day of my life.”
My daughter’s name settled into the room like a memory neither of us had the power to ignore.It had been several years since she passed away, but grief couldn’t always be measured in time.
“I’m sorry,” Silas said.“I keep thinking about how fast things can change.One minute you’re living your life.The next you find out just how easy it is for someone you love to be taken from you.”
I let the words sink in.“Tell me about your sister.I don’t know much about her.”
That earned the first real smile I’d seen since walking in.
“Pip,” he said.“She’s a loaded topic.”
“I’ve got time.”
He crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair.“All right, for starters, she’s unique and a bit of a free spirit.I’d describe her as boho bougie.”
I laughed.“I might need you to define that for me.”
“Let’s see … she’s the kind of person who loves farmers markets but also appreciates high-end restaurants and a nice bottle of rosé.She’s creative, witty, and curious.Maybe too curious for her own good sometimes.”
She sounded like a female version of him, with the same independent nature and carefree spirit.
“What does she do?”I asked.
“A little bit of everything,” he said.“She’s written a few mystery novels in the past couple of years, if you can believe it, and now she considers herself an amateur detective.”
“Oh?”
