The Gossip

Book 2: River Glen

by Nancy Bush

Genres: Crime Fiction; Suspense

Synopsis

From New York Times bestselling author Nancy Bush, a gripping thriller that explores the dark side of popularity, when "harmless" high school gossip turns deadly . . .



Every word you whisper



In high school, rumors can make or destroy a reputation. A thoughtless nickname can turn each day into a living hell. Gossip is irresistible—and contagious. But sometimes, gossip can kill . . .



Every secret you share



Mackenzie Laughlin, formerly with Oregon's River Glen police department, has reluctantly agreed to investigate a local woman's disappearance. The case reconnects her with Jesse James Taft, a PI gifted at getting under Mac's skin. But when the body is found tangled in river weeds, Mac and Taft realize that the case has changed, from one missing woman to a hunt for a terrifying and relentless killer . . .



Could be your last



In his old school yearbooks, they were the pretty, popular ones, confident and callous. Back then, they held the power. But now, it's all his. He's been waiting to teach them the lessons they should have learned long ago: that gossip and popularity have a price, and it's time to pay . . .

Release date: June 29, 2021

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 384

Sample

Rayne Sealy stood in line at Miller’s Market behind several mostly elderly women. One was definitely a Q-tip, her white hair glowing like a beacon beneath the grocery store’s overhead lighting and she was really taking her time.

Rayne sighed and checked her phone again. Almost five. She was chasing daylight. It would be gone soon on this breezy March day if things didn’t get moving and then all her plans would be over.

Hurry UP, lady!

Q-tip was pulling money out of a change purse, taking so long Rayne could have written a love poem to Chas—no, a full-on novel, thousands of pages long—in the time it took that woman to dig inside and drag out some carefully folded bills.

She hiked up the gray Hobo bag on her shoulder and checked her phone again. 4:55.

How long would Chas wait for her? They were supposed to be hiking along the trail that wound up to Percy’s Peak, a small mountain that was really just a big hill, but it was a highlight around River Glen. Chas had said there was a lookout along the trail that was known for being where couples went to get engaged. OMG! Was Chas going to ask her to marry him today? Why not? So, theirs had been a whirlwind romance. So what? There was no limit on how fast two people could fall in love. Sometimes it happened in an instant. Across a crowded room, like Romeo and Juliet.

Rayne inhaled a calming breath. Take it easy. Just a few more minutes.

She’d teamed her red silk blouse with her black Athleta capris, the good ones that hugged her butt in a way that made her look skinnier, and her black sneakers just in case. Not exactly hiking gear, but who cared. This could be a monumental day and she wanted to look fantastic.

“Can I go in front of you?” Rayne blurted out to the woman with steel gray hair behind Q-tip who’d just loaded up the moving counter with groceries. “I’m really late.”

“Honey, I’ve only got some produce,” the woman threw over her shoulder. Didn’t even bother looking her way.

Bitch.

Chas and her romance wasn’t quite like Romeo and Juliet’s, but it had been fast. Well . . . depending on how you looked at it. They’d known each other for years, but back in school she’d thought he was really nerdy and weird. The kind of guy who built radios or zapped bugs with electrified wires or something. She’d simply dismissed him. In high school she’d had her eye on Ryan Buck Ramsey, who’d played basketball and had unfairly thick lashes and an adorable, goofy smile. Every other girl in school felt the same way. But now, years later, it was sad to say, Buck had run to fat. He worked for his dad, who owned a business complex over in Laurelton, but he lived in an apartment and split custody of his daughter with his ex-wife, Anna, who’d been in Rayne’s grade and was one of those girls who’d had it all.

Rayne smiled to herself. She was kind of glad Anna had gotten stuck with Buck.

But Chas . . .

He’d changed his name, changed his looks, changed everything about himself. She hadn’t even recognized him at first. Whereas Buck had gone to seed, Chas had developed.

“Don’t tell anyone about us,” he’d whispered in her ear as he’d made excruciatingly slooowww love to her that first time.

“I won’t,” she’d gasped, holding back a scream of ecstasy, her fists clutched into the bedsheets.

“Our secret . . .”

She’d been too close to climax to suggest maybe she could tell her best friend, Bibi. There would be time for that later. As she’d floated down from ecstasy, he’d whispered, “I’ve always wanted you. I dreamed about you. We’re made for each other.”

She thrilled a little, every time she recalled his words, which she had countless times over the last few weeks. My God, he was wonderful and he wanted her.

Now Q-tip was moving off and Gray Hair was slipping into her place. Gray Hair was definitely more spunky, had her credit card in hand, thank God. And she had a helluva lot more than just produce going on there. Was that a bag of Chips Ahoy tucked in with the carrots, celery, and apples? You’re never gonna lose weight with those, honey.

Rayne was really over old people. Her short-lived stint at Ridge Pointe had cured her of them.

Rayne still hadn’t told Chas that she’d let Bibi in on their secret romance. He was death on anyone breaking into their perfect world. That’s what he’d said, anyway, and she’d believed him. But it hadn’t stopped her.

“No, what’s he really like?” Bibi had demanded. “Where did you meet him? Why is he so secretive?”

“He’s not secretive,” Rayne had hotly denied. And then she’d gushed on about him. His looks. His intelligence. The way he made love. “He’s what I’ve been waiting for my whole life,” she’d told her friend, tears standing in her eyes. Bibi had given her that look that said, “I’ve heard this before,” and Rayne had rushed to let her know that this time it was different. Really it was. It worried her that Bibi would somehow ruin this for her. Bibi had demanded more information, but Rayne was purposely lean on details. She couldn’t tell her that she’d known Chas for years but under a different name. It would be a no-no in Chas’s book, and, well, she was also kind of embarrassed about how much of a dweeb he’d been back then. He’d left around freshman year, maybe junior high, she thought. She hadn’t even missed him.

Bibi had finally eased off with the questions. She was on the edge of divorce herself, so she was somewhat distracted. She’d also been drinking too much and trying to live her life through Rayne. Rayne had desperately wanted to tell her absolutely everything, but she had to be careful what she said about Chas. He’d been very serious about keeping their relationship under wraps and she wasn’t going to blow it. No way. Uh-uh. Not until he was ready. She wanted a ring on her finger so she could wave her hand in front of her butthead older sister’s face. And she wanted to get married, too, of course. She’d left her shitty apartment with rent due three days ago and had filled up her trunk with her belongings while she figured out what to do. Camping out at Mama’s house was no answer, so she’d been living in her car and using the shower at Good Livin’, even with Patti’s glare knifing into her back whenever she entered. Her subscription to the club wasn’t up for a few more weeks, but Patti sure as hell wanted to kick her butt out. All because of Seth. Well, fuck her . . . and him, for that matter. She had a much brighter future ahead than either of them. They could have each other.

She glanced down at her belly, protruding against the red silk of her blouse. She could admit she’d gained a couple of extra pounds since high school herself and well, she wasn’t old by any means, but at thirty-two she kinda thought she’d better get on with it. The world could change in an instant.

If she and Chas had children . . . they would be smart like him, and cute like her. She was still cute. Even Bibi remarked on it. She just was a little pudgier than she’d been, although Chas had breathed in her ear as he’d squeezed her flesh, pinching her until it almost hurt, that all he wanted to do was be inside her, be enveloped by her.

“God, you make me hard,” he’d whispered.

Thinking about him, Rayne felt desire zing right to her core. Man . . . Lord . . . was she about to orgasm just at the memory? Right here in the checkout line?

She fought a giggle and Gray Hair shot her a dark look. She wanted to stick her tongue out at the woman. She wanted to tell someone. Shout her love for Chas from the rooftops!

“Our secret . . .” he’d said.

Finally Gray Hair bagged up her groceries and left and it was Rayne’s turn.

“ID,” the checker said, giving Rayne a hard look as she scanned the bottle of wine.

Rayne already had slipped her small wallet from the back zippered pocket of her pants, a leather black-and-white-striped Kate Spade purchase that had cost her dearly. The wallet only had enough room for her driver’s license, a few folded bills, and a credit card, if she should happen to possess one, which she didn’t. She’d brought the Hobo bag for her purchases. Pulling out her license, she waited as the girl examined it closely. It might bug some people to be carded, but Rayne always liked it. Reminded her that she was still fairly young. Her whole life in front of her.

The girl gave her a long look, slowly handed the license back, and checked her through. Rayne paid, then hurried outside, tucking the bottle in the woven gray bag, holding it close to her body against the light drizzle of rain. No, no, no. The weather needed to hold so they could go to the lookout.

Rayne climbed in her Nissan with the bent fender that hadn’t been her fault. That woman in the parking lot of the Olive Garden had just backed into her without looking. What a fight that had been. Luckily, Mama had helped out with Rayne’s finances after a lot of bitching about her “inability to hold a job.” Well, she’d been at the Coffee Club for a while, hadn’t she? Ever since she’d left Good Livin’ and she’d been there since Ridge Pointe. It wasn’t like she didn’t work!

But who knew . . . maybe she wouldn’t have to work much longer anyway.

She drove like a madwoman to the parking lot at the base of the trail, the one in the strip mall that was right next to Ridge Pointe. Grabbing up her phone, she tucked it in her back pocket, then glanced inside the Hobo. Tucked in beside the bottle of wine were the two paper cups she’d taken from Starbucks and the wine opener from her mom’s messy utility drawer. She slung the bag over her shoulder and headed across the blacktopped lot toward the trail that ran behind it. Luckily, the rain was holding off. She wasn’t wearing a coat. She wanted Chas to see her blouse and how good she looked in it.

There were small sticks and leaves littered over the trail as its popularity had waned over the winter. Also, the construction of the three big houses built around twenty years earlier and situated about halfway to the outlook had gotten rid of a lot of the naturalists. Oh, man. The brouhaha that had taken place in River Glen over the sale of that land . . . the freaking out over the demolition of the massive house that had stood there as a landmark for years . . . the screaming nutjobs who couldn’t handle any change . . . they’d all gone totally batshit crazy. Rayne’s own father had howled about the injustice of it all. The neighbors had practically gotten out their pitchforks and chased down the builder, but then he’d moved on to that big development on the west side, Staffordshire Estates, and the whole thing had finally died down except for some of the oldies around town who still held a grudge. Q-tip and “only produce” Gray Hair were likely in that camp.

But, Chas!

It was crazy how she couldn’t get enough of him. All she wanted to do was make love over and over again. Had she given herself to him too freely? Nobody cared about that anymore except . . . he’d made one comment about liking a challenge and she hadn’t been sure if he meant her or not.

We’re made for each other.

He’d said that, too. And they were. They really were! And if she could give up her job at the Coffee Club and live off his income—he’d told her he’d made a fortune in the stock market and been smart enough to know just when to get out and cash in—they could be happy forever.

She thought about telling her sister she was engaged. She could just imagine the look on her face. Elise had always treated Rayne like she was an idiot when she was the one who always screwed up. Elise was so easy to mess with. She grinned, but then she thought of what her mother would say when she found out and it kind of killed Rayne’s joy.

“Three weeks? Not even?” Mama would say. “Rayne! Use your brain, girl. What are you thinking?”

“But I love him. And he loves me. HE LOVES ME.”

She made a sound of frustration and picked up her pace. She passed the side path that led to the three houses above. A massive wrought-iron gate blocked access from the trail to the path that wound up the hill. Her eye followed it to a ridge above the trail before it disappeared through trees and brush. A line of Douglas firs had been planted into the hillside to screen the underlying structures of the houses from the hikers, trees that spread out at the base but were meticulously pruned higher up to keep from obscuring the views from windows that looked over the river.

Now Rayne was huffing and puffing as the trail grew steeper. The lookout was a helluva lot farther along than Chas had made it sound. It was apparently on the same upper height as the three houses but it was a good quarter of a mile along the trail past them. Jesus. Her chest burned and her thighs were killing her. She’d never been to the lookout. She hadn’t been on this trail but once. She wasn’t really into hiking.

Finally, up ahead, she saw Chas leaning against a tree. He straightened when he saw her and signaled her to hurry up. She did, though her heart was pounding. Maybe from seeing him. Maybe from the unaccustomed exercise.

“You brought a bottle of wine,” he observed with a smile, though it didn’t seem to quite reach his eyes. Her heart flipped painfully. Maybe he didn’t think it was such a good idea.

She glanced down at her bag. The top of the wine bottle was visible. “I thought we could toast at the lookout,” she said a bit anxiously.

“What are we toasting?” he asked.

“Us. Three weeks . . . almost.”

“You haven’t told anyone, have you?”

Rayne opened her mouth and tried to lie but couldn’t say anything. Chas’s face shuttered and she knew he’d recognized the tell. “Not really.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’ve kept it secret, like you said.”

“You told someone,” he accused. “Your family?”

“No, of course not. I just . . . I just mentioned I was seeing someone to my friend, Bibi. I didn’t tell anyone else. Promise.”

“What did you say?” he demanded tersely.

“Nothing! Really. I just said that I was . . . falling in love with you.”

“Did you tell her my name?”

“No . . .”

“Rayne.”

“Just your first name,” she admitted. “I’m sorry. Is it really that much of a secret?”

His whole body was tense. He tore his eyes from hers and stared out toward the overlook, which jutted above the river about ten yards from the trail. Rayne also gazed at the small spur of land that ended in a railed arc above the river.

Chas drew a deep breath, exhaled, and shook his head. “It’s fine. Let’s open that bottle, huh?” He smiled with an effort and reached a palm toward her. She handed him the bottle with the Starbucks cups upside down on its top, worried, needing him to say everything was all right. She shouldn’t have said anything about Bibi. She should have kept it secret, secret, secret until he was ready to let the world know. God, could he have a wife somewhere? Was there some reason that had real consequences attached to it? She wanted to ask him, but bit her tongue. Now was not the time.

They walked toward the edge of the overlook and stood at the semicircle of the wrought-iron rail, both gazing across the chasm to more Douglas firs and a line of native white dogwoods that dotted the opposite bank. The East Glen River wound slowly along far below, its surface ruffled by a light wind that didn’t reach upward where they stood. Chas kicked a small pebble off the edge and it rattled down the side of the cliff toward the river.

Rayne pulled the wine cork and her phone from her pocket, handing him the former. She set her phone on the ground as he gave her back the Starbucks cups, then expertly opened the wine, peeling back the foil and loosening the cork. It was a pinot noir that she’d paid dearly for, money she’d actually stolen out of her sister’s purse because it was open and just there.

She held out the cups and he poured several inches in the bottom of each one.

“To us,” he said.

“To us.” She glanced down at her phone, her heart pounding hard. How she wanted to take a picture and share it on social media. Man, she would love to be an influencer, someone everyone else followed. But she felt kind of uncertain with Chas. Things were a little odd.

“You want a picture,” Chas said, reading her mind as he took a sip.

“I know you don’t want them. It’s okay.”

“This is our secret. You know that.”

“I do.”

She just didn’t know why it had to be soooo secret. The thought that he could be married again made her heart jerk painfully. But even if that was true, she wasn’t giving him up. She couldn’t. She gulped her wine.

He bent down and picked up her phone. Immediately she wanted to snatch it from his hands, afraid. She realized she’d never seen him use his phone, though its outline was in his back pocket.

“Okay. Just one,” he said.

“Really?”

“Hold up your glass . . . no, wait . . . stand back here.” He pointed to the railing as she’d automatically moved several steps forward. She resumed her position against the rail as he set down his cup, moved back, and aimed the phone at her.

“I want one with the two of us,” she protested.

He made a face. “Let me get one of you first.”

She was ecstatic. He’d never allowed a picture before, which was silly, because he was in her junior high yearbook, maybe even her high school one from freshman year, for God’s sakes. He hadn’t been as averse to photos then.

Maybe he’s on the run.

Bullshit.

“Okay, stay there.” He touched her arm, lightly grabbing her wrist. “Yeah. Good.” He held up the phone again.

“You’re too close,” she said. He was right in front of her.

“Am I?”

“Yeah . . .”

He peeked over the top of the phone mischievously, then leaned in for a deep kiss. She wrapped her arms around him and he pressed himself against her. She could feel his hard-on and said, “Mmmmmm,” against his lips.

He pulled back and laughed.

“Now, take the picture so I can get one of you,” she said.

He gave her an “Oh, you . . .” look accompanied by a small smile.

He lifted the phone, then slowly lowered it again.

“Chas!” she complained on a laugh.

“I just can’t leave you alone.”

He suddenly tossed the phone behind himself and it hit the ground hard.

“Be careful!” she said, shocked.

His smile froze. “What did you say?”

“I just didn’t want you to throw my phone like that. I just . . . don’t want it to break.”

“Don’t you mean, be careful, Mr. Toad?”

“What?”

“Isn’t that what you said?”

She blinked. “I don’t know—”

“I hate people who talk about me,” he said with heavy disappointment.

“I’m . . . I’m sorry. I didn’t really say anything. I’ll tell Bibi we broke up. She doesn’t even hardly care. She just—”

He moved so swiftly she didn’t have time to catch her breath. Bending down, he grabbed her by her knees. Hoisted her up. Flung her over the rail. She inhaled, barely had enough air to shriek, “Chas!” as her foot caught in the rail. Her arms flailed. Her cup flew out of her hand. Then her head smacked hard into the cliff side and she saw stars.

Through a haze of pain, she felt him grab her snagged foot. She moaned and vaguely swatted around to grip the rail.

“Chas . . .” she murmured brokenly.

“Goodbye,” he said with a sigh of regret. He shoved her foot through the rail. Rayne’s fingers scrabbled wildly, touched the metal rail, never gaining purchase. She hurtled headfirst over the cliff’s edge, hitting the edge of the headland once, then again, bouncing against hard dirt and rock, spinning and tumbling the long way down into the slow-moving river far below.

When are you going to learn not to take on something you don’t want? Why did you listen to Bibi? You know she’s teetering on the edge of crazy. C’mon, Mac. Be smart.

Mackenzie Laughlin looked at her reflection in the mirror behind the Waystation’s bar. She lifted her glass of neat vodka to her mouth and wetted her lips. She wanted to appear like she was drinking, but she couldn’t afford to get inebriated. She’d told Bibi she would look into Rayne Sealy’s disappearance and so here she was, day drinking at the Waystation while keeping an eye on the couple at the table in the corner, Rayne’s ex and his latest girl.

“Hey, Mac!”

The unwelcome shout from down the bar caused her to stiffen. Someone had recognized her? Just what she needed.

Mackenzie cautiously slid a look out of the corner of her eye. The guy just strolling into the bar was tricked out in cowboy gear complete with Stetson, which he pushed higher onto his head with one finger as he caught her gaze and winked. She inwardly groaned. Donnie Gillis. She’d picked him up for DUI twice while she was still with the force and now he’d caught her in the middle of her surveillance. Well, shit. Pulling her gaze away, she picked up her drink again, refocusing on the mirror behind the bar, noting her own sour expression.

“You on duty, copper?” Gillis asked gleefully, sliding onto an empty stool next to her. He was tall and thin and wasn’t terrible looking, but his weak chin was right on full display as he leaned toward her.

She had to force herself not to move a stool over. “That’s when I drink the most.”

“Hah. Funny. You’re funny.”

He’d asked her out both times she’d taken him into the station. She’d told him she was in a relationship, which was a lie, but Donnie Gillis, known as Dobie to his friends, from the title character in an ancient television show, which was sometimes changed to Doobie because of one of his favorite choices of recreational drugs, was no slouch when it came to persistence.

“I’m no longer a cop,” she informed him.

“Really?” He looked surprised.

“Really.”

He was now blocking what had been a clean view of Rayne’s ex, Seth Keppler, and his girlfriend/roommate Patti Warner, who were seated at a table by the door. They’d been arguing, but now appeared to be lost in a silent, furious, standoff.

“Let me buy you another,” Gillis said. “To celebrate.”

“Not interested.”

“Oh, come on.”

“Thanks, but no thanks, Gillis. Need to stop you before you get started. Save us both some time.”

He spread his hands. “Time, I got.”

Mackenzie leaned back again to catch a quick look at her quarry, worried they’d heard him call her “copper” . . . but they didn’t seem to care.

He lifted his chin at the bartender, getting the man’s attention. “Bring me a Bud.”

Then he glanced at her drink. “What’re you having?”

“Vodka.”

“Hey, man. Changed my mind. I’ll take the same as her.”

Mackenzie felt a stab of impatience. She’d agreed to this “job” more as a lark than a means of making income because Bibi Engstrom was in the midst of an ugly divorce and barely making ends meet. Bibi had contacted Mackenzie because she’d thought Mac was still with the River Glen Police Department. Her friend Rayne had gone missing and no one seemed to be looking for her. Rayne’s family had told Bibi she’d likely taken off for parts unknown, possibly with a new romantic interest as Rayne tended to flit from one affair to another, but Bibi didn’t think so.

“Rayne doesn’t just take off,” Bibi had said, flipping back a dry end of over-dyed red hair. Bibi’s roots were showing and there was a weariness around her eyes. She and Mackenzie had shared some classes at Portland State but they’d never been exactly friends. They’d remet in River Glen when Bibi had called the police on her husband. She’d thrown his clothes onto the front yard and locked him out. His answer was to break a back window and climb back inside and then they’d screamed at each other for a long while. A skirmish of some kind occurred, in which Bibi’s arm was hurt. But Bibi had refused to charge him with battery, when all was said and done. The red handprint on Hank Engstrom’s cheek hadn’t helped her case. They’d reconciled, and apparently the clothes had been put back in the closet, but Bibi had recently confided in Mac that she and her husband had hit the end of the road. There was the intimation that Hank was seeing someone else. Neither of them seemed to be willing to give up the rental, so they were at a stalemate.

“Well, I mean, okay, Rayne does leave sometimes,” Bibi had corrected herself. “But not this time. She has a new boyfriend and she wouldn’t tell me about him. Honestly, she was . . . I don’t know, kinda weird about it. I thought maybe he wasn’t real? Like maybe she was still seeing one of her exes? I get the feeling it might be Seth and she just didn’t want to tell me? But she’s been gone for over a week. Not answering her phone? And she always picks up. Would you check it out?”

That’s when Mackenzie had explained that she’d left River Glen PD, but that fact had scarcely slowed Bibi down. When Mac told her to report Rayne missing to the department, Bibi said that’s what she’d thought she was doing when she ran into Mackenzie at the local coffee hangout, the Coffee Club, Rayne’s last place of employment.

“Talk to Gary,” Bibi had pleaded, waving an arm toward the middle-aged man with the hangdog face who cruised in and out of the Coffee Club’s back room to check on the girls working the counter. “Rayne hasn’t shown up for work for over a week. She’s not at her apartment. Okay, she ran out on the rent, but she would be here if she could. Hey, Gary!”

Mac vaguely recalled Rayne as the chubby, dark-haired woman with the beaming smile mostly reserved for the male customers as Bibi told Gary that her friend Mackenzie would be looking to find out what happened to her, why she wasn’t coming to work. Gary shrugged and said Rayne was unreliable. It’s just how she was. It wasn’t the first time she’d run out on him and maybe he’d take her back when she showed up, or maybe he wouldn’t. He had a business to run.

“If you find her, tell her it’s the last time,” he tossed over his shoulder as he resumed his place behind the counter.

Bibi had gone on to explain that she’d approached Rayne’s equally blasé mother, Sharon Sealy, and sister, Elise. Neither of them was apparently getting too worked up about Rayne’s sudden disappearance, either. “Would you just please find out where she is? She also owes me some money,” Bibi had admitted. “I’d like it back, but I also want to know what happened to her. She’s a flake, okay? But like this? I don’t think so. I have half a mind to go up to Seth myself and call him out, but he’s got guns. Even my husband, the asshole, thinks Seth’s trigger happy. So be careful, okay? I wish you were still with the police.”

Mackenzie, with no clear career path currently in sight, had grudgingly promised to look into the issue. A fool’s errand, most likely. Maybe a dangerous fool’s errand. But at some level it beat hanging around her mother’s house, her current place of residence while Mom recovered from surgery from breast cancer.

Mom . . . For a moment Mackenzie tuned out Doobie’s rambling. She’d been living with her mother at the insistence of her stepsister, Stephanie, daughter of the odious Dan “The Man” Gerber. Her mother was doing okay enough that Mackenzie could probably move out of the house now, but she’d let her apartment go when she’d moved in, so there was that. And then she’d quit her job, so there was that, too.

Mom had asked why Mackenzie had quit the force but Mac hadn’t felt like going into it all. Her emotions were still whipsawing back and forth over what she maybe could’ve done, should’ve done, but hadn’t. The sexual harassment had been mostly implicit. Nothing concrete enough to be definitive. A move in front of a door to make it hard to leave the room. A casual brush by. The evidence of his erection inside his trousers, something he wanted her to see.

The fact that he was the River Glen chief of police was what determined it for Mac. He wanted to promote her, but . . . there were steps she needed to take to earn that promotion. Those steps had never been outlined, but Mackenzie had understood they weren’t the kind of steps described in the department manual.

As if he could read her mind, Gillis asked now, “Why’d ya quit?” as the bartender slid his drink to him.

“Dissatisfaction with the job.”

“Didn’t get the promotion you asked for?”

Well, yeah, Doobie. The truth was she had half hoped she’d be promoted to detective when one of the River Glen PD’s detectives, Howard Eversgard, went on administrative leave. Eversgard had gone on to take early retirement after a dangerous domestic violence incident that left him no choice but to shoot the belligerent, angry husband aiming at him with his own handgun. An investigation had followed with Eversgard put on administrative leave, and though he was eventually cleared of wrongdoing, the man’s unfortunate death had gotten to him. He’d surprised everyone by giving up his job and starting a new life. Mac had secretly hoped for a promotion then, but Chief Bennihof had quashed that wish in a way that had left Mac no choice, she’d felt, but to quit herself.

And then Bibi had run into her at the Coffee Club.

“Look into Seth. There’s something there, I just know it,” she’d insisted as they were leaving, latching onto Mac as if they were long lost friends.

“An investigation takes time,” Mac had remi