Jane cocked her head to the side, studying him.
Byron winked.
“I’ll be in the eatery if you need me—to keep an eye on Juliet and Romeo. I’ll see if I can get her alone or something. And I need to do another thing. What was it?”
Her brain was in a sudden fog. Everything was fuzzy, and her mind usually functioned like a precision machine.
“Research?” Byron prompted.
“Right, yes.” Jane grabbed her laptop and tottered to the door on jelly legs.
A bad boy smile tugged at his luscious mouth. “Take your time, Legal Eagle, I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
That’s what I’m afraid of.
Jane scurried out before she made an even bigger fool of herself.
Chapter Sixteen
That evening, after Romeo had slipped out for a ride, they found Juliet sitting at a rickety picnic table behind the Love Nest. If their earlier encounter had been a preview, Byron doubted this interview with the young woman would go well.
Jane had spent most of the day avoiding him and he’d let her—for now. He could tell she was close to giving in and victory would be fucking sweet.
They sat down on opposite sides of the table. Byron straddled the seat sideways, in case she decided to bolt and he had to run her down.
“Juliet, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“You’d have more luck dialin’ 411.” She lit a cigarette, doing her very best badass impression and then took a sip from her longneck beer.
Jane frowned, not getting the quip.
As a teenager, Byron had performed the role of badass for months until it felt natural. That’s the problem with pretending—eventually, it becomes authentic, and the mask won’t come off anymore.
“What do you know about the Betsy Spellman murder?” Jane asked.
“Go fuck yourself.” Juliet stood.
Byron snagged her arm and yanked her back down. “Sit a spell.”
“Get your hands off me.” She sucker-punched him in the gut.
Byron grunted but didn’t loosen his hold on her. “Be nice and I will,” he gritted out.
“Goddammit, somebody blabbed. You bastards know I dated him, don’t you?” She pounded a fist on the wood. “Who sold me out?”
Despite her angry demeanor, Juliet had obviously been crying. The mascara and eyeliner were caked beneath her eyes. She was like a wounded animal, snapping and biting to cover the pain.
“Never mind who.” Jane caught Juliet’s gaze. “Please tell us what you know about Oscar Valentine.”
“Why should I tell you jack shit? You’re the one who set the bastard free again.” She swiped at her eyes. “I thought the feds were gonna finally toss the son of a bitch in a cage where he belongs, but no, you fucked it up.”
Jane flinched, but then her features smoothed as she pulled herself together. Byron could almost feel her guilt, it was so palpable.
“I was…am his lawyer and, yes, I helped him beat the murder charges.”
Juliet sucked the end of her Marlboro. “You’ll have to sit around and wait for him to drop another body.” Her smile was nasty. “And then you can explain it away too.”
Jane opened her mouth, but he shook his head. She had a no-nonsense, deposition approach to getting the truth, but he found the best route to the facts meandered. Byron bet Juliet hadn’t made sense of it all yet, made peace with her past. Not that he was a glowing example of closure.
He lit a cigarette too. “Let’s start with somethin’ a mite easier. We know you were Valentine’s girlfriend.”
“Yeah, because I had real good taste in men.”
Jane cleared her throat. “Tell us about him…as a boyfriend.”
“Why should I?”
“Because it’s eatin’ you alive, girl.” Byron blew a smoke ring.
She hesitated a moment, and then nodded, as though making a decision.
“He was handsome, quiet.” Her laugh was gasping, as though she had the beginnings of a smoker’s cough. “Ain’t that what everyone says about serial killers on the news? You know, when they interview their neighbors and such. Mr. Dahmer was such a polite man, kept to himself.” She snorted. “Well, Oscar was—he kept out of everyone’s way. The prick got good grades, joined the chess club, and didn’t make waves. Hell, even the teachers loved him.”
Jane nodded. “My first impression was how polite he was.”
“Yeah, his manners are real nice, at first. I mean you’d expect a murderer would be a troublemaker in school, like one of those lame ass football players who locks nerds in their lockers or somethin’, but no, he was all gentlemanly and considerate.”