Page 54 of Lost and Found

Except when it came to the way she wanted to spend time with him. “I like that about you too.”

Their food arrived, French fries spilling out of plastic baskets and plates piled high. The waitress stacked plastic containers between them. “Malt vinegar if you want. Need another round of beers?”

They passed, and Bailey took the lid off the vinegar, dunking a fry into it, and waited for Wes to decide how much, if any, he’d share about his sister.

“The teacher volunteered as an after-school tutor. She knew the football players wore their jerseys on game days, and she noticed one of the seniors didn’t have his. She’d asked about it because…” Wes shrugged. “She was a self-proclaimed busybody. She also knew that he was a kid that girls stayed away from. Small town. The rumors were fast and furious and often based in truth.”

“What’s your sister’s name?” she asked.

He rolled his lips together. “Chloe.”

She wanted to ask what Chloe had been like. Whether she was silly or serious, whether they’d got along. Things he might have told her if he’d been able to mention his sister without explaining how she died. Bailey relied on what she knew how to do: ask questions, and what he had done so far: answer them. Bailey waited, giving him time until she sensed he wanted to keep going. “The football player had something to do with Chloe’s death?”

Wes cleared his throat. “The guy asked his coach to replace the jersey. It cost money. The parents were asked to cut a check, and they didn’t want to. They bitched and moaned about it, but the season was over. They weren’t going to replace it with only a game or two left. Fast forward a year or so, the senior’s dad’s hunting buddy finds the missing football jersey.”

“Where was it?”

“Shoved between wood slats in a shack used during deer season. It’s not like those things are super sturdy. Some of the jersey was poking out, and the guy brought it home, thinking it had somehow gotten lost on a hunting trip. His wife tells everyone how dirty it was and that they should clean it up to give it back to the parents. Because,” Wes gestured vaguely, “football fever. It’s their memento from the kid’s high school football career. The lit teacher heard, had an inkling, and walked straight to the police, demanding they get that jersey. And that was that.”

“The stains were Chloe’s blood?”

He nodded. “They were. She was found not too far from the hunting shack.”

She put down the fry and swallowed, though her mouth was dry and empty. “I’m so sorry, Wes.”

The waitress arrived again. “Another round of beers?”

“Yeah,” he said. “That’d be great.” He waited for a beat. “That’s the story. That’s why I research and nose around in cold cases. A retired high school teacher gave me closure, and I like doing that when I can for others.”

She’d wondered why he suddenly agreed to work with her on her sister’s case. Wes had gone from fighting her to quickly working by her side, and now she understood. He knew what it meant to be the family still waiting for someone to find what everyone else had missed.

He tilted his head. “What happened to Chloe destroyed my parents’ marriage. That’s not uncommon, as you probably know.”

She nodded.

“It’s why I noted your parents are still together.” He popped another shrimp into his mouth. “How about a subject change? That was entirely too heavy for a place like this.”

She wouldn’t ask anything else about Chloe. But he’d told her something he rarely talked about, and she wanted to be careful. Bailey dunked her French fry into the vinegar. “Subject change. Let’s see… Work? Personal? Another heartbreaking story? Or I could perform a circus trick for the fry house crowd. Pick your poison.”

“God, I hope you have no more heartbreaking stories in your life, Bailey. You’ve had a hell of a lot.”

She dunked another fry. “Ryan didn’t know I was pregnant when he died.” She bit into it. “It was very early, and I was keeping it a secret to share on his birthday.”

Wes’s lips parted. “Fuck.”

“Yeah. There’s a life lesson for you. Don’t keep secrets. Even the good ones. Because you can’t control the future.” The waitress returned with their fresh beers. “Perfect timing.” She quickly sipped the frosty beer. “I didn’t even have to do a circus trick.”

He laughed. God, he laughed, and then she laughed, and it felt like the entire restaurant understood that they’d taken on too much. Diagonally from their table, a teenager stood on the chair, cupped his hands around his mouth, and announced he liked to eat chicken nuggets to the cheers and hoots of his tablemates and the scolding orders to sit down from the chaperones.

“I think they’re some of the lacrosse kids,” she said—right before the teenager tumbled off the chair. More cheers erupted. More chaperones scolded.

“I’d like to think, if I’m ever in their position.” Wes nodded to the adults. “That I would be more like the lady at the end of the table eating shrimp and letting the kids have fun than the red-faced lady getting louder by the minute.”

“You don’t think he should get in trouble for that?”

“I think nothing that lady is yelling right now is teaching the kid a damn thing, and that talking to him when he’s not laughing on a greasy-ass floor, getting cheered on by his friends, might make more of an impact.”

Bailey considered and agreed. “Probably right.”