Noah let out a grunt that sounded like a cross between a sarcastic laugh and a stifled curse word.
Ziggy studied him for a moment as the kitchen went still. He raised his drink, stared into it, said nothing, and took a sip. Setting down the glass, he lifted his gaze. “I didn’t say anything then, I’m not going to comment on it now.”
“Didn’t expect you would,” Jag said. “It’s just outside of the fact that you’re much older now, that’s the look you had all those years ago.”
Noah shrugged but said nothing else. Ziggy couldn’t blame him.
"How come I didn't know Callie was researching this story?” Not that Ziggy expected to know everything about every one of her siblings and their spouses, but damn, her family was tight. So tight, they were always up in each other's business.
Jag tilted his head. "Come on. You know Callie doesn't give up the details on what she's working on with anyone, except me—not until her publisher gives her the green light.”
"The world wants my father's story. My story. I’m sure she would’ve gotten the go-ahead without having anything but interest.” Noah pushed his glass across the counter, leaned back, and folded his arms. "I'm shocked I've been able to keep it hidden for this long." He scratched the center of his chest like he did when he had heartburn.
Jag rolled his shoulders. “Callie’s well known in the true crime world, and other writers, podcasters—they've been coming to her asking if she's been secretly working on this story and if she’s willing to share anything.”
"What does she tell them?" Ziggy asked.
"That Matias won't talk to anyone, which is true because she tried to get an interview.” Jag glanced between her and Noah. “But without the son, who vanished when he was seventeen and is probably dead, it's not a story worth pursuing."
"Being dead has its advantages." Noah chuckled.
"That's not funny," Ziggy said.
"It kind of is." Her brother held up his glass.
Noah had the gumption to reach for his and clink it against Jag's.
"You both are freaking unbelievable. This could ruin Noah." She looked back at Jag. The anger had moved past the hot stage into the cold stage, which was the stage her mother always said was the one to watch out for in a Bowie woman. Ziggy had to agree. And now she was slightly pissed at both her brother and Noah.
"No one wants to see that happen." Jag reached out and took Ziggy's hand. "Once the trail led us to Noah, we weren't going to burn his house down. That's not who we are, and you know that."
"How did you put it all together?” Noah asked. The laughter from a few minutes ago was gone. "If Callie found it, someone else can follow the same path, and while telling you to protect Ziggy from whatever fresh hell the card, the puck, and these flowers mean, I still don't necessarily want my secret out there for the world to judge." He took a breath and kept talking before Jag could open his mouth. "I get the hypocrisy, but Ziggy will tell you we've abandoned stories like this one. Not because ofme. But because there are some headlines not worth destroying someone over."
"I'm not judging." Jag lowered his chin. "Callie and I lived through some difficult times, and she wrote about them for the world to dissect. When she first started that book, part of it was to tell certain truths, and part of it was perhaps to hurt me. But the end product was all about giving a voice to victims who couldn't speak—and one of them was her sister. She wanted to find you not because she wanted to exploit you, as much as she wanted to give you the chance to tell your story, in your words, instead of letting people fill in the blanks in the most grotesque ways."
Ziggy knew all too well what people said about Angel. How he probably knew and had chosen not to say anything. It seemed it didn't matter that he’d just been. a kid—many thought he was just as guilty as his father. Same as his mother.
While others did see him as a victim, they could never understand how he didn't see his dad for the monster he was.
Noah flattened his hands on the counter. "Are you trying to tell me you believe I made a mistake all these years ago?”
"I'm not saying that at all," Jag said in that calm voice that usually made Ziggy relaxed and feel safe, but right now, it grated on her last nerve. "You asked how we came to believe you and Angel were most likely the same person, and the answer is both simple and complicated. Callie has never wanted to expose anyone."
Noah made a throaty growl. "Unlike me, is what you're trying to say.
"Don't put words in my mouth." Jag waved his finger. "You find different kinds of truths. You do expose people, but you do it as much as I do. You and I are the same in that way. We’re more likely to see the bad in people before we see the good. Neither Callie nor I have any beef with what you do or how youdo it, because you don't ever reveal anything for ratings. You do it because someone did something wrong and shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it.”
"He's right about that." Ziggy gave Noah a weak smile.
"The thing with Callie is, once people get to know her—especially if they've read her books or her articles—they open up to her in ways they’d never open up to a journalist."
"Shit." Noah scraped a hand over his face. "She spoke to my aunt and uncle."
"They talked about a young boy who they loved very much. How they'd hoped he would have found his way after his mother died. But that just hadn't happened, and they hadn't seen him since he was seventeen."
"There are a few pieces missing," Noah said. "One of which is they knew if Angel were tovanish,and I became someone else after high school, they would also disappear from my life."
Ziggy caught Noah's gaze and felt the ache of knowing there were still things she didn't know, still gaps in the story she'd been carrying for five years, and it made her angrier than she wanted it to. She turned back to Jag. "How did you find his family, whom he hasn’t seen or spoken to since he disappeared—which doesn't prove anything."