“He wouldn’t have been there without me.” There was no detectable emotion in her voice—but, obviously, the tragedy still weighed heavily on her heart. Sheridan always came back to the same issue. She couldn’t get beyond it.
“You were just talking to him, getting to know him,” Skye said. “It was completely innocent.”
“Innocent? I was trying to make his older brother jealous. Cain was the one I really wanted, Skye. Instead, I cost him his only sibling and he hasn’t spoken to me since.”
“You didn’t cost him anything! You were barely sixteen, Sher! You meant no harm. You were playing normal boy-girl games when a man showed up with a gun, opened the door of the truck and shot you both. Out of the blue. For no reason. It was senseless and random and could’ve happened to anyone.”
“Jason wouldn’t have been there without me!”
“Sher—” Helpless in the face of her friend’s pain, Skye didn’t know what more she could say. Their pasts intruded again and again. It was their reality, the kind of reality they wanted to help others avoid.
With a sniff, Sheridan sat straighter. “I’m sorry. I’m okay.” She’d gone pale talking about it, but she was moving again, cleaning up Jane Burke’s garbage. “I’m tired, that’s all. I don’t think about Jason unless I’m tired.”
It was a lie. Skye knew Sheridan thought about him all the time. Usually, she just covered it better. “Let’s get rid of this so we can go to bed.”
Sheridan nodded, but when Skye came back from taking out the garbage, she found her friend sitting in the same spot, staring into space.
“Sher?”
She blinked, then focused as if she hadn’t realized Skye had ever left.
“Don’t you want to spray some sanitizer?”
“Of course. It’s under the sink.” She stood to get it, but even after they’d finished cleaning, Sheridan wasn’t herself. Skye was so worried about her she brought up the one subject she really didn’t want to talk about, only because she knew it might cheer up her friend.
“I have a date for the fund-raiser.”
An expectant smile curved Sheridan’s lips. “Who?”
“Guess.”
“You asked Detective Willis?”
Skye could see the ghosts of Sheridan’s past being forced back into the shadows of her mind and felt a measure of relief. “Yes.”
“He’s not back with his wife, then?”
“I’m sure he isn’t or he wouldn’t have agreed to go with me.”
“What’s happening with his ex?”
The question dimmed Skye’s excitement. David wasn’t in love with Lynnette—Skye was positive of that. He hadn’t been for a long time. But neither could he seem to let her go. “We don’t talk about her.” They hadn’t talked much at all, not since he’d gone back to Lynnette after the first divorce.
“Maybe there’s nothing to say. Maybe she’s history.”
“I doubt it.” Skye knew it couldn’t be that simple or David would’ve come over last night. She could tell he’d wanted to. “So who’s going to be your companion for the evening?”
A little color returned to Sheridan’s cheeks as she laughed and threw up her hands. “I’m determined to come up with someone, but I haven’t figured out who. The only men in my life are the ones I’m trying to help other women escape. I might have to hire a paid escort!”
“Maybe you should ask your divorced neighbor,” Skye teased. “He provided me with such a wonderful time at the Christmas party.”
“No way. Charlie drops by often enough as it is.”
“Maybe you should suggest him to Jasmine.”
“I don’t think she’ll be back by Saturday.”
Skye sobered instantly. “Things aren’t going well in Ft. Bragg?”
Sheridan’s brief flash of happiness disappeared. “They found the girl’s dress.”
A knot formed in the pit of Skye’s stomach. “Anything else?”
“Not so far.”
“How’s Jasmine managing?”
“Jasmine’s convinced she’s dead.”
That said it all. “So…not well.”
Sheridan’s mouth formed a straight line. “No different than us, I guess.”
Oliver Burke waited patiently for Victor Romey to make his way through the fifty or sixty men who were playing basketball, lifting weights or milling around in the yard. He didn’t like Romey, but during the past three years they’d done a fair amount of business together. How else was he going to manage in a prison so violent it had been nicknamed The Arena? And Romey had contacts, could get things Oliver couldn’t. Extra paper. Pens. Chocolate. Information. It was the information Oliver craved most. It made him feel powerful despite his incarceration. But he had to pay handsomely for every tidbit.
“You find it yet?” He glanced up at the elevated catwalk bolted to the outside wall, where several guards watched all the inmates, rifles at the ready. “The badges,” as the other inmates called them, had to be particularly vigilant in the yard. If there was trouble, it was usually here. Because of the potential for violence, Oliver preferred the library or the small office in which he performed dental work for the other prisoners. That was the reason he’d been sent to San Quentin instead of somewhere else. He only came out to the yard if he needed to talk to Vic.
Vic spat at the ground. “I’m still working on it.”
It didn’t sound as if he was trying very hard. “What’s going on? I paid you for the information two months ago.”
“It’s not easy. She’s not listed, and she uses a post office box for her mail.”
“I thought you had ways of getting around that.”
“Takes time. I can give you her office address, if that helps.”
Oliver rolled his eyes. “I can get that through directory assistance. Why would I pay you?”
“As long as you can find her, why do you need her home address?”
“Because I do. What is this, twenty questions? What happened to discretion?”
Victor chuckled softly. “Discretion. That’s a good one.”
“So you’ll get it?”
“When I can.”
Fighting the hatred that suddenly washed over him, Oliver gritted his teeth. He’d already paid Vic. “Are you stalling?”