Be a Good Girl by Tess Diamond

Author:Tess Diamond
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2018-03-27T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

By the time Paul had eaten breakfast with his family and helped his mother fix a beam in the barn, it was nearly noon. He sped a little down the highway on his way to the courthouse, where the evidence boxes from Cass’s case—the ones the FBI had deemed nonessential—would be.

He wasn’t feeling very hopeful that he’d find the missing pages of the medical report there, but he’d try for Zooey. If she thought there might be missing forensic evidence, finding the missing pages was a lot better than the alternative.

Because the alternative involved things like exhuming bodies. His stomach clenched at the thought.

He wasn’t going to do that. Or let Zooey do that. He knew she wouldn’t even bring it up unless it was her only, last resort, but he prayed he’d find the damn missing pages so he didn’t even have to think about it.

The courthouse was an old Art Deco building from the 1930s that was the only place in town that had a basement. He checked himself in at the front, walking through the metal detector that looked like it was from the seventies. The security guard raised an eyebrow at his badge.

“This real?” he asked.

“It is indeed,” Paul said. “Do you mind?”

He took the badge back from the man, tucking it in his back pocket. It felt awkward there. He spent most of his days in a suit, his badge tucked in the inside jacket pocket. But he was in jeans and flannel and cowboy boots today, and he felt oddly off balance, suddenly.

Did he even belong here anymore? Had he ever?

He took the elevator down to the basement, smiling at the dark-haired older woman sitting behind the desk in front of the evidence locker. A long line of chain-link fence was strung behind her, and Paul couldn’t blame the sheriff for beefing up security—there were a lot more drug confiscations around these parts with the rise of heroin and meth. Sometimes, an addict could get so reckless that even the idea of robbing the law seemed like a good idea.

“Hi there,” Paul said, glancing at the little name placard that said Annie Wheeler. “Annie, I’m Special Agent Paul Harrison, FBI. I believe Sheriff Alan called and said I’d be coming by?”

The woman’s face broke into a wide smile. She was round and soft and cute, her curly dark hair springing up around her head like a middle-aged Betty Boop. “You’re Tandy’s boy!”

“I am,” he said.

“Your mother is so proud of you,” she said. “All she does is talk about you. We ran the Christmas Fair at the church last year together, and it was the best year ever. We raised over five thousand dollars for the homeless shelter.”

“That’s great,” Paul said.

“But Sheriff Alan did call and give me a heads-up you’d be coming,” Annie said, getting up and fishing a large ring of keys out of her desk. “He told me to let you wander around, take whatever you wanted.” She unlocked the chain on the gate into the evidence locker, pulling it open.

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