Free Tin God by Stacy Green

night before that. So consumed with being number one, addicted to the adrenaline rush that came with the big story, he’d taken his wife for granted. He told himself she knew about his ambitions when they got married. She knew he had a chip on his shoulder, that he wanted to prove himself to the small town that expected him to come back and be a grunt worker just like his parents and brothers. He’d known he was a shitty husband. Maybe that’s why he’d accused her of having an affair. God knows she wasn’t getting any attention from him.
    The night she was murdered, he and Lana were supposed to have dinner together at Bon Ami’s, one of Jackson’s best restaurants. A make-up dinner for the fight they’d had earlier in the morning. Nick forgot–left her there alone while he chased a story. The host said she’d left in tears. She’d driven herself, but her car was found abandoned on the street. Lana had never made it to her vehicle. Had she met up with someone? An old friend? The lover Nick was afraid she had?
    No one had any information. For three days, she’d just vanished. Until a hiker discovered her strangled and mutilated body in Lafleur’s Bluff State Park, just outside of Jackson.
    “If you’d showed up, it wouldn’t have happened.”
    It wasn’t anything he hadn’t thought a thousand times, but hearing Cage’s words broke Nick. He slid down into the nearest chair and put his head in his hands.
    “And my sister–my best friend–would still be here.”
    The vice grip he wore every day tightened, and for a moment he wondered if a clean breath would ever come–if he’d be able to see clearly again. His fingers dug into his forehead, sweaty palms against his cheeks. He pulled in short, shallow breaths, willing off the shame threatening to incapacitate him.
    Focus on the details, not the person . Rebecca Newton. Tie her to Lana, tie Royce to them both.
    “You’re right,” he choked out, hot tears stinging his eyes. “I failed my wife. The only thing I can do now is try to find her killer.” The humming between his ears dimmed and speech became easier. “And the best way for me to do that is to talk to Royce Newton, find out if he’s even a real suspect. Do what I do best.”
    He finally bolstered the nerve to look up. The younger man stared back, anger and compassion battling for dominance. A lock of his dark hair clung to his forehead. His lips were open, teeth bared. Nick could tell Cage wanted to say something, probably wanted to hit him, bust his nose, do something to alleviate the storm of rage and sorrow that no doubt brewed inside him. He’d idolized his older sister, and she had doted on him. Cage had every right to hate Nick.
    The cicadas had stopped. The night air still sizzled with their angry words, and the mosquitoes arrived in droves. Nick swatted one off his arm.
    Cage opened his mouth to speak. His phone rang, its shrill tone shattering the heavy silence.
    “Yeah?” Cage’s fingers turned white from his grip. “Wait, say what?” His hand relaxed, right arm going across his body to support the left, phone cradled between his shoulder. “You’re at home?” He glanced back at Nick. “Right now?”
    Nick licked his rough lips. His fingers twitched.
    “All right, all right,” Cage said. “No, I won’t. I promise. Give me fifteen minutes.”
    He hung up the phone, tapping it against his chin. Finally, he turned to Nick. “I’m going to regret this, but you want to go for a ride?”
    They said goodbye to Lorelai and Oren, promised to keep them in the loop, and headed out to Cage’s cruiser. The night was still sticky, but the heady scent of magnolias and warm summer air made it almost bearable.
    Nick settled into the passenger seat. “So where are we going?”
     
    He still couldn’t believe he’d missed it. “Jaymee Ballard found Rebecca?”
    “Yeah.” Cage drove through the quiet Roselea streets toward the west end of town. “She worked for her part time.