Justine visits Ivy’s grieving parents for answers—but a call from Bentley blurs the line between investigation and infatuation.
I paid little attention to him as I gathered my things for the road. The trip wasn’t a long one, but I knew it would be an emotional one. I hadn’t seen Ivy’s parents in a long time. I remembered them to be the sweetest couple you could ever meet. I was sure they had already gotten the news about their daughter, but I wanted to give my condolences before asking questions.
On my drive to their place, I got a call. The number was fresh to me—one I had never seen before. I figured it was a lead coming in or someone who wanted to give me a statement about Ivy, but I was surprised to hear a familiar voice on the other end.
“Mr. Thomas. How did you get my number?”
“I’m a well connected man,” he said. “I can get anything I want. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors.”
I was intrigued but also worried. I thought that if he knew I was investigating Ivy’s case, he would cut all ties with me, or worse, have what was done to her done to me.
“I hear a lot of things in this town,” I said. “Nothing surprises me anymore. Is there something I can help you with, or are you calling to help me?”
“I was calling to invite you to lunch,” he chuckled. “I already told you, I won’t be much help with your friend.”
Butterflies rose in my belly as a large smile slid across my face.
I was sure he could hear the smile in my voice because my cheeks rocketed so high I could barely see the road. However, I didn’t let myself seem too desperate. Besides, Ivy’s parents were first on my list.
“Unfortunately, us little people have to work every day to keep the lights on,” I blushed. “Lunch is a no-go today.”
“Today, huh?” His tone shifted into something more melodramatic. “How about tomorrow? Or the next day?”
"Aren't I gonna see you this weekend?” I cut in.
“You never gave me a straight answer for that.”
The longer the call, the more I blushed and felt nervous. A good nervous. As if I were going on a first date with a guy I really liked. Surprise settled in because I didn’t even know Bentley Thomas. Outside of what I’d heard about him, he was a complete stranger to me. But he made me feel like we already knew each other.
“What are you doing after work?” he asked. “Maybe we can have dinner instead.”
“I’m going shopping for something to wear to your party. I don’t wanna be the only one there who isn’t dressed to impress.”
“Ahh, so you are coming?” That time, it was him who was smiling. “Where do you shop? I’ll meet you there.”
I told him I’d text him where I was going if I felt up to it. I was at the end of my drive, and all of my focus had to stick with Ivy.
Even though I would have loved to sit on the phone and pick his brain more than anything, I still had a job to do.
Pulling into Mr. and Mrs. Smith’s driveway felt surreal. It was like a dark cloud hovered over me from the time I got out of my car until I reached their door. When I rang the doorbell, the cloud started to pour with anxiety and sadness. The thunder roared when her father opened the door, looking disoriented and confused. He was only fifty years old, but his grief made him look one hundred.
“Mr. Smith, it’s me. Justine.”
“Justine.” He repeated my name with a blank stare. “Ivy’s old friend.”
“Yes. Justine Sky,” I smiled remorsefully. “I was wondering if I could speak with you and your wife. About Ivy. If you’re not feeling up to it right now, I can always come back.”
Mrs. Smith shuffled her way to the door and took a peek. There was sadness in her eyes, but a soft smile broke the mold when she saw me.
“Justine, come in,” she said. “We’ve been trying to answer as many questions as we can so that we can figure out what happened to my daughter. The police don’t seem to know a thing. You might be able to help us more than they can, since you and Ivy were friends.”
A load of guilt crept into my heart as I walked into their home. It had been years since I’d seen their wallpapered walls. Ivy and I were distant friends, and my investigation was more for myself than it was for her. Although it sounds terrible to say, my intentions were still genuine.
“If you don’t mind, I’m gonna record our conversation for my notes. The more information I can collect, the better our chances of figuring out what happened.”
“Whatever you need to do, you do it,” Mrs. Smith said. “For Ivy.”
I placed my recorder on the coffee table in front of us and prepared for the details of Ivy’s night. Her parents started from the time she got home from work until she left their front door. It seemed like any regular night. Until Mrs. Smith said that Ivy was in a funk because of a bad breakup.
“She was seeing someone?” I questioned intently. “Have either you met him?”
“I saw him once,” Mr. Smith chimed in. “It was late. He was dropping her off after work, and I could tell that they had been arguing. I didn’t get a good look at his face, but he was driving some kind of sports car with loud tailpipes. I remember that car because I hated how loud it was.”
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