Free Silent Witness by Rebecca Forster

wasn't like I didn't see him. I knew they were together. Sometimes he'd walk his bike down with her, then go for a ride and come back. They'd hook up again. But most mornings it was just her walking. It was always just Lexi who came in.''
    ''So when did you and Archer get to know each other?'' Josie prodded.
    ''Couple of weeks after Lexi died he came in and told me she was gone. Archer told me Lexi felt like Hermosa was home because of me. That was a nice thing for him to do. I liked him right off for that.''
    ''He can do nice things.'' Josie took a deep breath and cradled her chin on her upturned hand. ''So what else did Archer say?''
    ''You mean about him and Lexi?''
    Josie nodded.
    ''Nothing. I figured he'd get around to telling me his life story eventually.''
''Did he?''
    ''Nope. He just kind of disappeared. I thought he'd left town. I didn't know about Mexico then. You know those trips to shoot pictures?'' The trips to Mexico. Yes, she knew all about them. Didn't she? ''I guess that's where he went. I figured he was gone for good. Then he showed up again. But that made sense. I mean, why stay away after Lexi left him that prime bit of real estate?''
    ''The apartment building? That was hers?'' Josie's coffee never made it to her lips. Slowly she set it back down.
    ''Oh, man, I'm sorry, Josie, I thought you knew?''
    Josie shook her head, ''I figured he bought before the market went nuts.''
    ''Naw, Lexi got it in her divorce settlement,'' Burt said.
    ''And Archer told you about that but not about the accident with the kid? That sounds kind of chatty to me.'' Josie mused uneasily as the columns of this balance sheet weren't adding up.
    ''Lexi told me she was leaving Archer really well fixed for the beach babes. It was kind of sweet, you know. It was like Lexi was looking out for him.'' Burt ran some water in the sink and added a spritz of detergent. ''She'd sure as hell be happy to know you're here for him now. She'd be happy he didn't sell the building.
    Burt was gone again, called by some chore in the kitchen. Josie heard him speaking to someone in Spanish. A delivery man at the backdoor. A person needing a handout. When he reappeared with another tray of glasses he had a smile on his face and a thought in his head that turned Josie cold.
    ''Or, you know, maybe we've got this all wrong. Could be Archer's been keeping to himself so much because of this thing with the kid. Wouldn't that be something if he really did it and he was hiding out? Hey Josie, who was that guy that murdered his whole family? He was like an accountant and he laid 'em all out and then went away and got a new wife and everything? Who was that Josie?''
    Burt filled the ensuing silence with his chatter, spinning conspiracy theories, amused at his own imagination while Josie sat stone still. What Burt implied was stupid and thoughtlessly uttered. Yet, she had not instantly dismissed the idea that Archer could have done just that. Even now Josie found no quick voice to stop Burt and so he went on.
    ''John Wayne Gacy? Naw, he was the guy who dressed up like a clown. . .Killed boys. . .I think that was him. . .But the other guy. . .What was that guy's name?''
    ''Burt, stop. That's ridiculous. You don't really think Archer could have done anything like that.''
    Burt raised his eyes. He rested his arms on one of his knees as he balanced on the ground with the other. He opened his mouth, but before he could answer, someone else joined the conversation.
    ''Did you really need to ask that, Jo?''
    Slowly, Josie turned her head. Archer stood behind her, taking up more space than she ever remembered. Archer removed the sunglasses he wore despite the unremarkable day. Burt stood and Josie heard the tinkle of glass as if Burt backed into the bottles on the bar, shocked when he saw the damage to Archer's face. But it wasn't the bruising and cuts Josie saw. She was looking Archer in the eye. Those eyes – once level playing fields – were now hard and desolate and as