it’s coming out of nowhere, and I hate to pry into something so personal, but…” I steadied my voice. “Did you know your sister was a lesbian?”
Her eyes darkened and got hard in the center. “That’s not something we’re gonna talk about.”
“But—”
“No buts.” Her voice hardened to match her eyes. “My sister was murdered, and the man who did it is in jail. That’s justice, and I’m grateful for it. The rest is between her and God.”
“Is that what you two fought about?”
She shook her head. “Eliza’s dead, and all that died with her. I don’t care what questions you want to ask, I’m taking her home now, and we’re going to do the best we can with the life she lived. It wasn’t much, but she was family, flesh and blood, and that’s what family does for family.”
“But I’m not convinced Bulldog did it.”
“I am. Eliza spent her whole life chasing some fantasy that she was better than who she was. You chase something long enough, you forget something might be chasing you. Eliza paid for that mistake with her life.”
Her face was taut with emotion, her fists clenched so hard her knuckles whitened. Whatever parts of her had loosened over the last few days had tightened up again, and she wasn’t about to drop her guard, not for me, not for anybody.
I stood. “I’m sorry, Janie. I appreciate everything you shared with me. I wish I could have done more with it.”
Her mouth stayed hard, but her eyes relaxed, just at the corners. She reached up and fingered the ever-present crucifix.
“You did the best you could. That’s worth something.”
I left quickly, too heartsick to argue with her. RIP Eliza Compton. Daughter, sister, friend, co-worker. Murder victim, former thief, closet lesbian, possible blackmailer.
God, why do we even bother with tombstones? It’s not like we don’t lie enough without them.
***
My second stop was back at Beau Elan to find Jake Whitaker—I had a couple of questions for the antsy bastard before he got word that I was no longer legit. Despite what I’d told Landon, I still had my Phoenix ID. One flash of the plastic at the front gate, and the security guard let me in without a quibble.
Inside Jake’s office, the first thing I noticed was that Jake himself was gone. In his place, a young woman with a planed, no-nonsense expression and black bunned hair stood behind his desk. I recognized her as one of Mark Beaumont’s staff.
She frowned at my ID badge. “I thought they were sending Mr. Seaver?”
That’s when I noticed that everything on Jake’s desk had been piled into two boxes. The woman stared at me, slightly puzzled but not alarmed.
I smiled. “He got tied up in a meeting, last minute stuff. He sent me instead.”
“Fine, then. Here.” She handed over a small box. “This is the back-up footage I found. I don’t know why Mr. Whitaker had it in his desk. The originals are with the police, and you already have the archives at Phoenix.”
I accepted it with a smile. “It’s a mystery.”
And then she handed me another box, this one sealed with duct tape. Her lips curled with distaste. “I wanted to throw this away, but Mr. Beaumont said to turn it over to you people. So here. Get rid of it.”
I smiled again, broad and reassuring. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.”
***
I tried to call Trey, but got his voice mail, which meant that he was still in his meeting. I left him a rambling message. “Listen, Trey? Call me back as soon as you get this. Nothing’s wrong, but I have to talk to you ASAP. I’ve kinda…crap, just call me, okay?”
I decided voicemail was not the way to mention my recent termination. Ditto on the contraband materials from Jake’s desk. Driving out of Beau Elan with the illicit boxes sitting next to me was an exercise in patience. Had Jake been fired? Reassigned? And what kind of surveillance footage did he have hidden in his desk? I knew that the main records had been turned over to the police, the back-ups to Phoenix. What in the world would Jake be keeping just for himself?
My fingers itched to pry it open, even if I knew Trey would kill me in some hideous SWAT-intensive manner if I did.
So I called Rico. “Do you know where can I find someone—someone discreet—who can unplex some security footage?”
***
Rico sent me to his friend Doug at the Buckhead branch of the Fulton County Library.