Page 59 of Dead Men Tell No Shells

I thought back, trying to place the moment accurately rather than letting my memory rearrange itself around what I now knew. “Before the body was found. I can’t give you an exact time, and I don’t want to pretend I can.”

“That’s fine. Tell me everything you remember, even if it seems insignificant. We’ll work out the timeline as carefully as we can.”

I described what I could recall, making it clear where my memory was certain and where I was less sure. Josiah listened without interrupting, writing down the details and asking a few precise questions. His concentration was familiar to me, though I’d rarely seen it directed at something that had so much potential to frighten me. I watched the crease form between his eyebrows and found myself wishing, absurdly, that I could smooth it away. Once, I would have reached across the desk without thinking. Now I kept my hands folded together and let the distance between us remain.

When I finished, he closed the notebook but kept his hand resting on it. “Max, this changes what we need to look at. It doesn’t prove the redevelopment was connected to Harvey’s murder, but it gives us a reason to investigate whether something from twenty years ago was threatening him.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“And it’s exactly why I don’t want you trying to solve this yourself. Whoever sent that message may have had a reason to threaten Harvey. We don’t know whether that person is the killer, whether they know anything about the murder, or whether they might consider you a problem if they learn what you’ve seen.”

The concern in his voice was unmistakable. I wanted to reassure him, to tell him I would be careful, but I couldn’t promise that no danger existed. Neither of us knew enough to make that guarantee. I’d spent years turning other people’s fears into stories where the hero eventually found the answer and everyone went home safe. It was easier to make promises on a page than in a room with someone whose opinion still mattered far too much to me.

“I’ll stick to our agreement,” I said. “I’ll tell you what I hear, and I’ll leave the investigating to you.”

He searched my face as though he were trying to determine whether I meant it. “I’m serious, Max. I don’t want you hurt.”

“I know.”

And I did. Whatever else had happened between us, whatever hurt still lay beneath the fragile understanding we’d begun to rebuild, I knew that his concern was real. It would have been easier if it weren’t. Easier to dismiss him, easier to keep my distance, easier to pretend that the years between us had erased everything we’d once meant to each other. But they hadn’t, and I wasn’t sure whether that was a blessing or another risk I was going to have to learn to live with.

Josiah gathered my property notes and placed them carefully beside his computer. “I’ll have someone look into the old records and see what we can establish about the company and the people involved. In the meantime, if you remember anything else about that message, you call me.”

“I will.”

“And Max?” I paused beside the door. “Don’t mention the message to Ricky or Tammy. Not yet. I don’t want the wording circulating around town before we understand what it means. If someone is watching to see whether the threat has reached anyone else, gossip could tell them more than we want them to know.”

That was a reasonable point, and I couldn’t argue with it. Ricky and Tammy were my friends, and keeping something from them would feel strange, especially when we’d agreed to share anything relevant with Josiah. Still, this wasn’t ordinary gossip. It was a possible threat connected to a dead man, and I had no intention of putting either of them at risk merely because I wanted someone to talk it through with.

“Alright,” I said. “I’ll keep it between us.”

“Thank you.” Josiah glanced at the property records spread across his desk, then at the clock. “Actually, since you’re here, would you mind staying a little longer? I’d like to compare your references against what we have on the redevelopment. There are details I can’t discuss with you, but we can at least establish whether the dates and companies line up.”

I was careful not to look too pleased by the invitation. “As long as you remember that I’m a responsible civilian consultant and not your unpaid research assistant.”

“You’re the one who brought me a folder full of property records.”

“And I expect a glowing reference when this is over.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

His answering smile was brief, but it warmed me more than it should have. I pulled my chair closer to the desk, and we settled into the work. Josiah checked the information available to him, while I followed the references in my notes and marked the dates that appeared to overlap. Whenever we found a discrepancy, we stopped to consider whether it meant anything or whether it was simply the sort of inconsistency that accumulated in records over twenty years. We didn't have enough evidence to draw conclusions, but we were beginning to build a clearer picture of the people and businesses involved.

As the evening wore on, the office grew quieter. The last of the day's callers had gone, the phones rang less frequently, and the light beyond the windows faded from gray to black. I hadn't intended to spend the evening at the sheriff's office, but every time I thought we were ready to stop, we found another date worth checking or another reference that might help us understand the redevelopment. More than once, I caught Josiah studying me when he thought I wasn't looking. Each time, I pretended not to notice, because I wasn't sure what I would do if I caught him at it.

We worked well together. That was the dangerous part.

There had been a time when we could spend hours side by side without needing to fill every silence. We could read, talk, argue over a film, or simply exist in the same room, comfortable in the knowledge that neither of us needed to be anywhere else. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed that ordinary closeness until I found myself sharing it with him again. The years between us hadn't erased the ease with which we fell into familiar patterns, and I didn't know whether that should reassure me or make me more cautious.

At some point, Josiah brought me a cup of coffee. I accepted it gratefully, only to discover that it had gone cold by the time I remembered to drink it. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed.

“You're fading,” he said.

“I'm concentrating.”

“You've been staring at the same page for five minutes.”

“It's a very interesting page.”