Page 24 of A Sister's Secret
“Wow.”
She exhaled. “I know. It’s a lot for one day.”
Oliver met her gaze, and she saw the reflection of their shared resolve in his eyes.
"Thank you, Lisa," he said, his voice thick with unshed tears. "For not giving up."
"Never," she vowed, the word a solemn pledge that bound them together in the heart-pounding pursuit of truth.
Oliver's hands trembled as he clasped them tightly on the kitchen table, the pale light casting shadows that seemed to deepen the worry lines etched across his face. The silence that hung between them was heavy, laden with the weight of impending revelations.
Lisa felt a chill trace its way up her spine, the sinister undercurrents of the small town suddenly breaking through the surface like jagged ice. She could sense Oliver's burden of guilt, a shroud that had draped over him since the tragedy.
"Oliver," she said softly, squeezing his hand in reassurance, "none of this is your fault. You did everything you could."
He looked up, his eyes haunted. "I should've protected her, Lisa. It was my job as her brother, and I failed. I can’t believe she had a family?"
She knew no words could erase his self-reproach, but she needed him to understand that they had a chance to make things right. "We can still help her, Oliver. We can uncover the truth and bring those responsible to justice. You and I both don’t believe she killed herself. Someone hurt her, and they’re getting away with it."
Oliver glanced toward the liquor cabinet, and Lisa knew how badly he was craving a drink. All these wounds that had been opened threatened to drag him down into the darkness again. She grabbed his chin and pulled his head so he would look at her instead.
“I love you, Oliver. I love us. Forever and always.”
It was then that a resolve settled over them both, solidifying their partnership in a quest for answers.
The sound of a knock at the door broke through their intense focus. Lisa rose to answer it, finding their neighbor Lyle standing on the porch, his stance unsteady and his gaze clouded with drink. She hadn’t seen him since he tried to kiss her and she told him not to, that she was with Oliver and loved him despite his ex coming to town and wanting him back.
"Lisa," he slurred, his voice tinged with an edge of desperation, "let's leave all this behind. You and me, we could?—"
But Lisa cut him off, placing a gentle yet firm hand on his chest. "Lyle, you know I can't do that. Oliver needs me now more than ever."
"Oliver?" Lyle scoffed, bitterness lacing his tone. "He's a drunk, and he treats you like dirt. Why do you defend him?"
"Because he's more than his mistakes," Lisa insisted, her eyes blazing with conviction. "He's fighting his demons, and he needs someone to stand by him."
Anger flared in Lyle's eyes, and he shoved her hand away. "You're a fool, Lisa," he spat out before stumbling off into the cold night.
Closing the door on Lyle's retreating figure, Lisa leaned against the wood, taking a moment to steady her racing heart. Returning to Oliver, she found him waiting, his expression one of gratitude and silent understanding. He no longer looked like he craved a drink—only her love.
"Let's keep going," she said. “Let’s figure this puzzle out together and get closure for you and your family.”
The cold draft from the half-open window did little to deter Lisa's focus as she dialed Travis’s number, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the kitchen table. Oliver stood by her side, his presence a solid comfort in the uncertain quest they were about to undertake. The phone rang twice before a gravelly voice answered.
"Travis speaking."
"Travis, it's Lisa Thompson," she said quickly, exchanging a glance with Oliver. "We need your help."
A brief pause followed, then a sigh that spoke of years spent in service and retirement that was anything but restful. "I figured this call might come sooner or later. What have you two found?"
Lisa briefed the retired officer on their discoveries, her words painting a picture of a decade-old mystery resurfacing like a ghost from the murky depths. Oliver interjected with details only he knew—the pain of loss giving weight to every fact shared.
"All right," Travis finally said, determination seeping through the line. "Let's meet. And bring everything you've got."
The three of them convened at the dimly lit back room of Lisa and Oliver’s café, where the walls brimmed with the rich aroma of coffee beans and old wood. Travis, with his hawk-like gaze and silvered hair, listened intently as they laid out the information—printed-out newspaper clippings that led her to the town where Michelle had lived, the Polaroid photos of Michelle, the notes Lisa had taken when speaking to the locals in the town.
"First things first," Travis began, pulling out his notebook. We’ll need to call in some favors. I've got contacts still in the force. If we play our cards right, they can get us access to databases."
Oliver nodded, his face set in grim resolve, while Lisa felt the flicker of hope ignite within her chest. They were no longer alone in this; they had an ally with knowledge and connections they sorely lacked.