I throw myself back against my seat, eyes wide. Jordan is standing next to my door, his face split between warring emotions: half an apology and half stifled laughter.
I catch my breath and then wave him around to the passenger side, jamming my thumb into the Unlock button harder than is necessary. He’s still chuckling when he climbs in but he follows it with a quick “I’m sorry, Riley. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
His dark curls fall forward against his forehead as he fumbles under the front of the seat, looking for a latch to slide it back. His knees are crunched into my dashboard, his body looking disproportionately long in my passenger seat. I try to think of who sat in it last and then realize that it was me. Mama and I went for groceries this morning and we took my car, but Mama drove. I’m five feet seven inches and Jordan has a good six inches on me. I sit back, laughing quietly to myself as he keeps searching under the front of the seat for the latch that I know is on the right side.
He whips his head up and his warm eyes glint at me in the afternoon light. “I hope you’re enjoying yourself.”
“Very much.” I smirk. “You scared the crap out of me. This feels like swift and sweet karma.”
He shifts to face me and bangs his knee against the dash, wincing. “For knocking on your window? I didn’t even try to sneak up on you. You just weren’t paying attention. This is hardly fair.” Then he reaches to the far side of his seat, finds the right lever, and the entire seat shoots all the way back.
Jordan stretches out like a cat and then smiles. “Much better.”
I turn the key and put the car in gear.
He grabs for his seat belt and raises his eyebrows at me. “So, you’re sure about this?”
“Not even a little bit.”
My phone rings next to me, the number unknown, so I answer it.
“Hello.”
“Hello, Miss Riley.”
“This came up with an unknown number instead of your normal one,” I say.
“Yes, sorry about that,” Mr. Masters says quickly. “Just trying to be cautious. I may get you a different phone to use for a while as well.”
“Is that really necessary?” Jordan asks when there is a pause in the conversation.
I sigh at the silence on the other end. “Sorry, I should’ve mentioned. Jordan is here with me.”
Mr. Masters speaks directly to Jordan this time. “Don’t dig up more snakes than you can kill, Mr. Vega. You’ve seen the evidence in this case. If we assume that the killer is, in fact, not in jail already and he or she finds out that you two are poking around, which of the three of us most resembles one of his victims?”
Jordan’s eyes widen and dart over to me before he swallows hard. “Fair enough.”
I frown and try not to show the sudden biting chill that slithers down my spine. “I’m not even blond, and I’m too young—not his type.”
“No, but sometimes anyone who’s in the way will do just fine.” Mr. Masters’s voice lowers and he waits for his words to sink in. “In all your haste to find your truth come hell or high water, you should try to remember that and be careful.”
I don’t say anything until Jordan gives me a pointed stare and I roll my eyes. “Noted.” Then I decide to change the subject. “I’ve learned some new information. I’m not sure if you already know about it.”
“What did you find out?”
I open my mouth to answer, but then hesitate. Everything Mama told me still feels so raw and personal, it’s hard to make myself repeat it.
Mr. Masters doesn’t seem to need an explanation for my reluctance. “Miss Riley, now isn’t the time to start chewing your bit.” His tone is kind, but there is a slight edge of impatience behind it.
Jordan watches scenery outside his window, but when I glance his way, he meets my eyes and gives me the tiniest nod of encouragement.
“Okay.” I speak up. “I’m not sure if this has anything to do with Daddy’s case, but I found out something about my parents last night.”
I can hear Mr. Masters frown through his voice. “Like?”
“It’s about an accident Mama was in.” I listen for a reaction, but there is none. “Apparently she was twenty-three weeks pregnant at the time. The baby—my brother—died in the accident and it doesn’t sound like Daddy took it well.”
Mr. Masters’s voice sounds distant when he says, “Thank you for telling me. Anything else?”
“Yes. I talked to Mama about the affair, but apparently she thought I was talking about his affair with Stacia, not Hillary.” I hold my breath, but everything on the other end sounds calm, no reaction. I’m not sure if that means he already knew or that he can hide his surprise well. I decide to just come out and ask. “Did you know about that?”
“I suspected.” His voice is cold and hard. It’s so strange to hear from him. “You’ve been busy. Is there anything else I should know about?”
“Not yet.” I listen closely, anxious in case he decides not to tell me the information he promised.