Page 27 of Thicker Than Water
“Look,” Lou says, “I haven’t seen your brother in years, but from what I know about him, I agree that it seems unlikely he’d be tied up in any financial crimes.”
“It’s notunlikely, it’s—”
“And that there certainly could be people whoareconnected to Gavin in that way, people who might have an incentive to hurt him. But the issue here is, right now, the police believe they have a lot of reasons to be suspicious of Jason in particular. The phone, the knife, the mystery of his whereabouts on Friday night. So that’s why their focus is on him at the moment, and they’re going to keep digging until something—the blood test, we hope—disproves their assumptions.”
I don’t like how he says that:we hope. As if he worries the blood on Jason’s knife might actually turn out to be Gavin’s.
“And like I said before,” Lou adds, “the best thing you can doright now is determine your brother’s movements after leaving the conference.”
I pick a piece of bacon off Julia’s doughnut, grind it between my teeth. “And what if we can’t? We checked his credit cards and there was nothing. And short of building a time machine so I can go back to that night and follow him myself, I don’t know how to figure that out.”
“So we wait for the blood,” Lou says, like that’s so easy—waiting. “Or we hope another lead pops up that shifts the focus elsewhere.”
I consider that, stealing a sip of coffee from Julia’s mug. “Like a lead about Gavin’s financial fuckery? Oh—pardon my French, Lou. But a lead about that, and whoever might have actually been tied up in it?”
There’s a pause before he answers. “That would be… helpful, yes, if it points away from your brother.”
And there it is again—if—another uncertain word. My hand tightens around Julia’s mug.
“But I should caution you, Sienna, not to go investigating into anything like that on your own. For one thing, it could hurt your brother’s case. The police might wonder why you’re getting so involved, what you’re trying, perhaps, to cover up. And another thing, it could be dangerous—you don’t want to risk catching the attention of Gavin’s killer.”
“I think it would be obvious why I’d be gettingso involved—they’re after the wrong guy.” At the top of the stairs, Beck’s voice rumbles, and I cock my ear, listening for his descent. “Lou, I’ve got to go. Thanks for the info—keep me posted.”
The rumble was a false alarm. Fifteen minutes pass before anyone comes down, and I spend them sitting with my arms crossed, squinting at the ceiling whenever I hear footsteps above me. When the officers finally march down the stairs, I spring toward the entryway, where Beck holds the door open for his men.
“Thank you, Mrs. Larkin, Sienna.” He nods at each of us, Jason’s laptop tucked under his arm in a clear plastic bag. “You have a good day now.”
“Oh, you too,” I call out as he leaves. “Just a sparkling, spectacular day. In fact—”
Julia closes the door before I can say more. Misery swims in her eyes.
“I can’t believe you handed it all over,” I say.
Her brows spike. “They had a warrant. I didn’t have a choice.”
“Still.” I head back toward the kitchen. “You didn’t have to make it so easy for them. But listen—Lou called, and he said that Gavin might have been involved in something shady, financially speaking. Which is great information, because Ialsofound out that someone—”
I stop myself. I can’t share what Wyatt told me without outing myself for talking to him in the first place—a thing I swore to Julia in this very kitchen that I could not, would not, do. But I’m also struck by Julia’s reaction. Her eyes have shot wide, and her face looks drained of color.
“What?” I ask.
“They think Jason’s involved with that? With—Gavin’s financial stuff?”
Her gaze goes distant, obscuring whatever thoughts are leaping through her head.
I wave away her worry. “They’re grasping at straws. Lou says they’re looking for motive. But listen—I think we should look into this. Did Jason ever tell you he thought Gavin was doing something sketchy at work? Or even outside of it?”
Julia shakes her head slowly, eyes attached to the wall behind my head. “No,” she says, something a little haunted in her tone. “Jason never talked to me about money.”
I take her hand, which is limp and clammy. It does not grip me back. “Jules? Are you okay?”
She blinks, which seems to focus her, and her fingers fold around the back of my hand. “Yeah. It’s just—not every day the cops arrive with a warrant.”
I purse my lips, narrow my eyes. There’s something she’s not saying. Her silence forces a gap between us, a disconnect, even as our hands remain linked. Still, I carry on, no time to waste.
“Which is why I think we should get a little more proactive,” I say. “Do you think Maeve would have an idea what Gavin was up to? She’s the office manager, so she does the bookkeeping, right? I wonder if she’s noticed anything… off. I think we should call her. It’s before nine, so she might not even be at work yet. Do you have her number?”
“Well, yeah, but—”
