The Return

Chapter Fifty One

Holly

Monday May 24th 2021.

Polished black floors, beige walls, and chairs tucked in a corner by the front desk. Honeysuckle air freshener and cologne. She felt stupid, gullible for believing Nadine would hand everything over like that. Life was never that easy. "Where's your other half?" Holly set her hands on the front desk. The chair by the computer was empty. A water bottle and an envelope sat uncomfortably close to the device.

"Jessica? Called in sick," Nadine was more at ease.

Holly dug the papers out of her bag and placed them on the front desk.

Nadine hastily looked over her shoulder and shoved the papers back. "What are you doing, put those away." Holly followed her eyes to the cameras in the corner.

She held them in place. "Where's the missing page?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Nadine said firmly.

Holly squared her shoulders. She flipped to the last page. "Or did you think the photocopier wouldn't capture the jagged edges of a ripped page?"

Moisture prickled the woman's forehead.

"I've come up with two theories. One, you ripped it out yourself or two, he ripped it out and you're protecting him."

Holly didn't want to feel like she reached a dead end. But with the way things were playing out...

"A young girl is dead and all signs point to the man you're defending—"

"He didn't do it."

"Then who the hell did?" Holly was a terrible combination of flustered and upset.

Nadine recoiled. "I can't tell you."

Each word out of the woman's mouth was a punch to the stomach.

"Why not?" Holly tried to regain her composure.

Silence.

"Why not, Nadine?" Her tone was strained.

"Because, he paid me." She paused. "He paid to have the whole thing covered up."

"Who?"

"Edward Kent."

The ex-boyfriend's father.

Whispering. Footsteps. Flashes. Out the door, a swarm of protesters and reporters ambushed her. They weren't there when she walked in. How did they find her? "Miss. Steinfeld, what is your connection to the deceased Scarlett Leighton?" She counted at least fifteen people. They could have been more.

Her head was pounding. She couldn't cower. "Do you think you will have better luck reopening the case when trained detectives and investigators couldn't?" They had it all wrong. She was merely providing persuasive information to the relevant authorities and public figures to change the town's perspective on the dead girl.

"The poor girl is finally resting in peace." The rest of the protesters sounded incoherent.

She kept her head down. She had to talk to Malcolm Kent before anyone else did.

Who was assigned Malcolm for the week? She thought back to that afternoon in her bedroom.

Heaven.

Suddenly, Holly started pushing, her feet slapping against the pavement. They made a terrible mistake digging into the case.

Shit.

She climbed out of the back seat of her Uber, tucking her phone in her pocket.

Heaven sat by the foot of the porch steps.