family.”
“Still,” I said, tilting her chin up. “Thank you.” I kissed her softly.
“So, who do we tell?” I asked.
Everyone around the table was silent. Billy Ray burped under the table, then barked in delight.
“We have to go to the authorities,” Shelby said. “They need to know that that body isn’t Callie Kendall. That some other family lost a daughter, a sister.”
“Bowie and Cassidy are getting married tomorrow,” I reminded her. “Your triathlon is tomorrow.”
“I realize that. But if this is all connected? If whoever threatened Cece Benefiel into retracting her claim was involved in Abbie Gilbert’s death?”
“If the same person is responsible for that car nearly forcing you off the road on your bike,” I added.
“If one person did all that, they’re also likely the person who hurt Callie in the first place. And they’re powerful enough to change a forensics report,” Shelby said.
Her statement hung like a cloud over the table.
“This is bullshit. We know it’s the judge,” Gibson said, slapping a hand on the table.
The puppy barked ferociously at the noise. Gibs had accepted my mother’s story as the truth, which told me he either trusted her or he needed Callie Kendall to be alive. Maybe it was a bit of both.
“Sorry, bud,” he said, leaning down to pick up Billy Ray. Despite the anger in his tone, he held the dog gently.
“The evidence points in that direction,” Shelby began. “But we can’t be certain. If we start making accusations—”
“Fuck accusations,” Gibson said. “I want a face-to-face conversation with the asshole.” Billy Ray took exception to the language and slathered Gibson’s face with his tongue. “Get your damn tongue out of my mouth!” he sputtered.
The mood around the table lightened almost imperceptibly.
“This is exactly why we shouldn’t tell Scarlett,” Shelby pointed out. “Half-cocked accusations aren’t going to get us a confession. And if it is the judge, he obviously has power and reach. He has access to police records, maybe even a thug or two in his pocket to do his dirty work.”
Gibson handed the puppy over to my mother who still looked guilty and dazed.
She and I were going to have a long talk in the near future.
“Why didn’t you tell Jonah when he came here?” Shelby asked. It was like the woman could read my mind.
“Everyone was safer assuming Callie Kendall was gone,” Mom said. She seemed lighter, too. As if sharing this news had somehow lessened a weight she’d been carrying for a long time.
“Maybe everyone is still safer assuming she’s dead,” I pointed out.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gibson demanded.
“Our brother is getting married tomorrow. Do we really want to have a family sit-down and ruin that? Who’s going to be paying attention to two people who waited their entire lives for six o’clock tomorrow when the whole world is lit up over Callie Kendall being alive?”
“Still, it would be nice if she could go un-missing to clear this mess up,” Shelby mused.
“Call her,” Gibson said earnestly to my mom. “Bring her back here.”
“I can’t do that, Gibs. It was one-way communication. Everything was set up for her safety. I don’t know where she is or how to contact her. After your mother died, Callie and your father spoke on the phone. They decided that she would continue sending postcards but to me instead of here, where someone might notice them and wonder.”
“Who would see a postcard and find it suspicious enough to raise a red flag?” Shelby asked.
“Seriously, Shelby? How long have you been in Bootleg?” Gibson asked dryly. It was the first hint of humor I’d seen from him in a long time.
She gave a little mock bow. “Point taken. The bottom line is, what if the postcards aren’t enough proof?” she said, wetting her lips. “If someone has the power to tamper with a forensics report, they’re not going to have much of a problem disproving a couple of postcards that could have been sent by anybody. Without Callie herself, we’ve still got nothing.”
“You have me,” Mom said firmly. “Your father’s name needs to be cleared. I’ll tell them everything I know.”
“It’s still… what would Jayme call it?” I asked. “Hearsay? So you got postcards in the mail. What are they going to do? Fingerprint them?”
“Maybe. And there’s also the fact that I met her last year.”
“Mom! Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Holy shit,” Shelby breathed.
“Holy shit. Disney princess swore,” Gibson whispered.
“Watch your mouth, Jonah. And no, I’m not fucking kidding you,” Mom said with a slight smile. “When your father died