Juniper had already seen him outside with the bucket and ice-salt scoop, and had passed off his car keys with sincere gratitude.
“Come here,” Cora said, just over the threshold of her small office. She held out her arms and Juniper returned the hug, but she was too keyed up to take any solace from Cora’s warmth. Apparently, Cora could sense it, because she squeezed Juniper’s hands and backed away to lean against her desk.
“I’m sorry I was late.”
“Never mind.” Cora flicked off the apology with a wag of her fingers. “Barry was here. I’ve been here for half an hour at least. Tell me: Who did it?”
“Slashed my tires?”
Cora’s lips pulled tight. She didn’t suffer fools.
“Yeah, sorry. There’s a lot going on.”
“Have you called the police?”
“Not yet.”
Cora took this news with a slight nod. Juniper couldn’t tell if she thought it was wise or foolish that the local police hadn’t been contacted yet. She glanced toward the door to make sure that Barry hadn’t crept into the library soundlessly. The floor was empty. Turning back to Cora she said, “I think it was Ashley.”
“I don’t know.” Cora tapped the thin line of her mouth once. “She’s all bark and no bite.”
Juniper didn’t agree, but she didn’t argue. “One of the Tate brothers?” They hated her, and they had good reason to. Though she had been leveled by the murders and later by the knowledge that she was pregnant, in the months that June remained in Jericho, she hadn’t missed an opportunity to accuse the Tates. Anything to take the focus off her brother. Anything to draw attention to what she knew to be true: the Tate brothers had been plotting to do something to warn off Cal and Beth Murphy. June spilled it all—or almost all—over and over again, to anyone who would listen. If there had been any chance that she and Sullivan could make it work, she had annihilated that possibility with the drumbeat of her allegations against his family.
“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.
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.