Chapter 4: Hey, Lynnie

Brian I spotted Jocelyn beside an empty table just as I finished speaking with her father. She had a plate in one hand, but she’d forgotten about the food. Her eyes were fixed on me. I knew that look. She’d worn it at twenty whenever she was working through a problem she didn’t intend to leave unsolved. Only back then, the problem usually involved school, and I wasn’t the one standing in the middle of it. I smiled before I could help myself and headed toward her. Eight years. I’d known she was coming for the funeral, but knowing it and seeing her were different things. Her copper-red hair fell over one shoulder, and she still wore the glasses she’d been forever pushing up her nose. The rest of her had changed in ways I couldn’t ignore. Her black dress fitted her instead of hiding her figure, and she stood with a confidence she’d spent years earning. She used to tug at the hems of oversized shirts, convinced everybody noticed the curves she wanted to conceal. I had noticed. I’d also noticed how bright she got when she talked about something she loved, and how she never let Luke win an argument just because he was louder. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this nervous about saying hello. “Hey, Lynnie.” She went still. Her mouth parted, and I immediately wondered whether I’d made a mistake. “Sorry,” I said. “Jocelyn.” “No, don’t apologize.” She gave a small shake of her head. “Nobody’s called me Lynnie in years. It caught me off guard.” “Guess I haven’t updated my vocabulary.” The corner of her mouth lifted. “Clearly not.” There it was, the smile I’d spent too many years remembering. For a second, the room felt less crowded. Then her gaze traveled down to my chest, and the smile disappeared. PRESIDENT. I hadn’t forgotten what patch I was wearing. I just hadn’t considered how it would look to her, standing at her stepbrother’s funeral. “How’s Chicago treating you?” I asked. “Good. I love my work.” She shifted the untouched plate to her other hand. “Dad says you’ve been helping him.” “Where I can.” “He appreciates it.” I glanced toward her father. He’d thanked me for checking on arrangements earlier, even though we both knew there were things about Luke’s death we hadn’t discussed. I hadn’t expected forgiveness from him. I didn’t know whether he believed I deserved it. “Your dad’s been through enough,” I said. “Yes, he has.” Something in her tone told me we weren’t talking about funeral arrangements anymore. She looked toward the people gathered around the buffet, then nodded at a quieter space near the hallway. “Can I ask you something?” “Anything.” I followed her away from the tables. She set her plate on a sideboard, turned to face me, and folded her arms. It wasn’t a defensive gesture. It was the posture of a woman preparing to get an answer. “How long were you vice president before Luke died?” I didn’t move. “Less than six months.” “After Steve.” “Yeah.” Steve Arden had been more than a patch on a cut. He’d been Sable’s brother, a man I’d known long enough that the mention of his name still carried weight. Taking his place hadn’t felt like an achievement. Neither had taking Luke’s. “So Steve dies, you become vice president,” she said. “Then Luke dies, and now you’re president.” “I know the order.” “Do you see how that looks?” “Like two men died and I ended up with patches I never wanted.” She studied me. “You expect me to believe you never wanted to be president?” “I expect you to remember that wanting to run a club and wanting someone dead are two different things.” “I remember a lot about you, Brian. That’s part of the problem.” That hurt more than I’d expected. I kept my voice level. “The police investigated. Nobody charged me.” “I’m aware. Dad told me you were cleared.” “Then you know that much.” “I know they didn’t charge you. I don’t know what evidence they had, or what they didn’t have.” She pushed her glasses up her nose, just as she used to. “And I know you were the one who ended up in charge.” “Luke hurt Sable.” “I know he did.” “He wasn’t going to stop because somebody asked nicely.” “Then tell me what happened.” I looked toward the reception room. Valerie was speaking with Tag, and Jocelyn’s father sat a few feet away, staring at his hands. It wasn’t a conversation I wanted carried back to him through a room full of people. “Sable was in danger,” I said. “I stepped in. That’s the truth.” “It’s part of the truth.” “It’s the part I can give you here.” She breathed out through her nose. “You don’t have to tell me anything. I know that. But I’m not going to pretend I don’t have questions.” “I wouldn’t ask you to.” That seemed to surprise her. She’d expected an argument, maybe a demand that she mind her own business. Luke would’ve given her both. I wasn’t Luke. “I was supposed to fly back Sunday,” she said. “I’m going to see whether I can extend my leave. I want the records, the timeline, whatever I can lawfully find.” “You’re investigating me.” “I’m trying to find out why my brother is dead.” Her voice wavered at the mention of him, then steadied. “I know what kind of man Luke became. I’m not defending what he did to Sable. But Dad loved him, and if somebody committed a crime, he deserves answers.” I wanted to tell her that her father wasn’t the only one who’d once loved Luke. That none of this had started with a patch or a plan to take over. But those weren’t answers she’d accept on my word, and I couldn’t blame her for that. “If I find evidence you killed Luke unlawfully,” she continued, “I’m taking it to the police. I won’t look the other way because of what we used to mean to each other.” There it was. The thing neither of us had ever said out loud, tucked inside a warning. “Lynnie,” I said quietly, “I didn’t do any of this to become president.” “I hope you’re telling me the truth.” She picked up her plate and walked back toward the tables. I watched her go, trying to make sense of the woman who’d just told me she intended to build a case against me while looking at me with the same eyes I’d never managed to forget. I could live with her asking questions. There were answers she deserved. What I didn’t know was whether she’d still want them once she understood what Luke had done to make his death necessary.