Page 5 of A Sea of Unspoken Things
“I’m okay, thank you.”
Amelia gestured for me to sit, and I took the chair in front of the desk, where stacks of files were piled in rows.
“Still getting settled, if you can believe it. I’ve been in this posting for almost two years and still can’t seem to get a handle on this paperwork. But it’s good to finally meet face-to-face.” She lowered herself into the seat opposite mine, and my gaze dropped to the gun holster and gleaming pair of silver handcuffs that rested at each of her hips. “I know we already spoke about this on the phone, but I want to offer my condolences again. I’m very sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” I cleared my throat.
“I want to assure you again that this case is being handled with the utmost care. Johnny was a friend, and as you can imagine, the entire town has been just devastated by what happened.”
“There haven’t been any more developments?” My voice was thick, and I hoped it didn’t read as emotion. The last thing I wanted was for this woman to pull out a tissue and comfort me. There were more important things to get to.
A frown changed the shape of her face. “I’m afraid not. I know this is hard to make sense of, but the working theory right now is that whoever fired the gun likely had no idea they’d even struck someone. Johnny wasn’t wearing his safety gear, and honestly, we see these accidents happen every year. It’s almost impossible to track down who’s involved, especially with a bullet like that.”
“A bullet like that?”
“Yeah.” Her head tilted just a little, a note of confusion in her tone. “I thought I mentioned that the last time we spoke on the phone….”
It was possible she had. I could hardly recall the details of our conversation now.
“We were lucky in that we were able to recover the bullet from Johnny’s”—Amelia paused—“body.” She cleared her throat before she continued. “We sent it to Sacramento to be analyzed, but it belongs to a very old gun, most likely a hunting rifle that was made before production required serial numbers. Most guns like that aren’t registered, either, and unfortunately, hunters from all over the country turnup in Six Rivers during that part of the season—for the elk.” Shestopped herself. “Of course, you know all of that.”
I did. Hunting season in Six Rivers was rivaled only by the town’s obsession with the high school’s soccer team, which had won the state championship many times over the years. In a town like this one, both resembled religious holidays.
“The point is, there’s no real way to even know who exactly was in the forest that day, let alone that week. In fact, it’s most likely that whoever took that shot was a visitor to the area.”
“So, that’s it?” The words felt flat in my mouth.
Amelia was silent for another beat. “Not exactly. I’ve been doing weapon checks on my rounds to verify permits, and I will continue to do so, but the season is over now. And it’s important to keep in mind that the odds of finding the gun are almost…” She didn’t finish. She didn’t have to. “I just want to be sure there isn’t anything else you can tell me about Johnny that might be relevant.”
“Relevant?”
She shrugged. “Anything you know about the days leading up to your brother’s death. Anything you think might be helpful.”
I swallowed. “Johnny and I hadn’t talked for a while.”
“I gathered that.”
My focus on her sharpened, studying the tilt of her mouth. She was looking right at me now with an acute attention that made me feel uneasy.
“I just got the impression that you two weren’t keeping in touch, per se. I mean, when’s the last time you visited?” Her eyes didn’t leave mine, and I suddenly had the distinct feeling that she knew the answer to that question.
“It’s been a long time.”
“Yes, well.” She folded her hands on the desk. “Family can be complicated.”
Her tone was still light, but there was a weight to the words themselves that made me uncomfortable. I didn’t know if it was my own paranoia or just the fact that I didn’t know or trust Amelia Travis. But that look in her eye wasn’t simple or naïve. And I was willing to bet she didn’t trust me, either.
“Look, in my experience, it’s only a matter of time before the details begin to surface. It might take weeks, months, even decades,” Amelia said. “But I give you my word that I’ll continue to exhaust what resources are available to me. As long as I’m stationed at this post, I can promise you that.”
The pain below my collarbone woke again, and I discreetly pressed my knuckles to it, trying to breathe through the searing ache. I’d just stepped out of a coffee shop when it first exploded in my chest, followed by the feeling of hot blood soaking my shirt. I could still feel the cold in my fingertips. The gravity-spinning rush that had made me feel like I was falling. But I’d known right away that this wasn’t like the other times. I knew, as the cup slipped from my fingers, that Johnny was gone. In a blink, that image had cast over my mind like a veil. Treetops swaying, the flicker of light. I could still see it, even now.
“Now, there are a couple of other items we need to cover. I wasn’t able to track down anyone else for notification of Johnny’s death. Are you his only family?”
“Yes,” I answered.
“No one else back in San Francisco?”
My fingers dropped from the phantom hole in my chest, landing in my lap. “It’s just the two of us. Our dad passed away years ago.”