“Same thing,” Tanner bit out.
“Maybe. Maybe not. You won’t know until you ask. But I will tell you this - doing nothing at this point is not an option. If you don’t act on these findings, someone else will. And they won’t care about Blake or Skyla, or what they’ve been through.”
Tanner wanted to scream and punch something. “I just can’t believe he would do something like that. I know he’s impetuous and doesn’t give a damn about rules, butmurder?” He ground out that last part like it was costing him his own soul just to utter the word.
“For what it’s worth, I don’t think Blake did it. It’s too messy. Feels… wrong.” Luke ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “I’m not saying he didn’t do it. I’m not even saying hewouldn’tdo it. Especially given the timeline, the events that unfolded later that evening, and Skyla’s history with the deceased. All I’m saying is that things might not be quite as they appear. But that’s all we have to work with, so we work with it. We work the case. We do our job.”
“I can’t do this to them,” Tanner said. “Blake stopped by the precinct today. He was...broken.” Tanner didn’t even know how to describe the man he saw earlier, but it sure as hell wasn’t the same guy he’d known for years. Something like this, his own friend accusing him of murder - that could very easily be the last straw for him, and for Skyla.
Luke gave a quick nod, keeping his gaze forward. He swallowed hard before speaking again. “You’re not doing it to them. You’re doing itforthem. Remember, Tanner. Innocent until proven guilty.”
“I want to believe he’s innocent,” Tanner said, grabbing onto Luke’s words like a last lifeline to his own sanity.
“Then prove it,” Luke said. “And help them finally leave Arlo J in their past. Permanently.”
Chapter 8
On Saturday morning, April was both excited and nervous to meet Tanner at Murphy’s Soup Kitchen. The more she got to know the man, the more she liked him. Not just as a man, but as a potential father for Violet. He was caring and generous, with a strong sense of right and wrong. He was also loyal and kind. The way he talked about his friends, and his dedication to volunteering at the soup kitchen all these years - if April didn’t already like him, those things alone would’ve drawn her to him.
He’d also been there for her in ways he didn’t even realize. He listened when she told him about a conversation she’d had with a nurse at her mom’s Alzheimer's facility. And he seemed genuinely interested when she talked about Violet. April couldn’t say much about her niece, but when she told him about Violet’s favorite books, her favorite songs, the way she hoped to one day have her own white horse, he seemed to really care and even asked follow up questions. Ned sure didn’t know or care about any of those things, and Violet was his stepdaughter.
April chose to wear her favorite pair of skinny jeans and a flowy floral top. She took the time to blow dry her hair and put on a little make up. Just some mascara and a bit of lip gloss. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been on a date, and while Tanner hadn’t called this a date, somehow it felt like it was.
Something was happening between her and Tanner. There was a chemistry between them that was impossible to ignore. Every morning, April looked forward to meeting him for their run, and she hated when it was over and they had to say goodbye. Judging by the way Tanner called her every night and sent her multiple text messages throughout the day, he likely felt the same way. It was heady to feel this way about a man, but April needed to keep her priorities straight. The whole reason for all of this was Violet. No matter what happened between her and Tanner, the only one who really mattered was her niece. She deserved to have a real dad who loved her and wanted her for more than just her ability to move things with her mind. Violet deserved a dad like Tanner Rhodes.
Now that April had found Tanner and had gotten to know him, it was time to tell him the truth before Ned’s violent attacks affected her sweet niece’s personality more than they already had. Violet had lashed out the other day, but if things got any worse, April feared her otherwise kind and gentle niece could grow into someone she didn’t recognize.
When April’s Uber pulled into the parking lot for Murphy’s Soup Kitchen, she immediately noticed a large fenced-in area where a group of kids were playing on some brightly colored playground equipment. They had big smiles and seemed to know each other. A few adults sat on a bench watching over them while talking amongst themselves. The children’s laughter and shrieks filled the air as April climbed out of the Uber and approached the front door. The name, “Murphy’s Soup Kitchen,” was etched into the glass panel, but in place of the ‘o’ was a white four-leaf clover.
She pushed the door open and was instantly assailed by dozens of delicious food smells and a multitude of voices all talking at the same time. Adults and kids of various ages were sitting in small groups at tables varying from four to eightpeople, all with plates of food in front of them. Mashed potatoes. Fried chicken. Peas and carrots. Some had a simple salad, others a cup of soup. It smelled absolutely divine and made her stomach rumble, reminding her that she’d skipped breakfast.
“You made it,” a familiar voice said.
She turned to see Tanner fast approaching her, weaving between two young kids who were giggling and playing.
“I did,” she smiled. “This place is amazing.” For some reason, whenever April thought of inner-city soup kitchens, she imagined them to be depressing and dreary, but Murphy’s Soup Kitchen was anything but. The walls were painted a creamy yellow with a mural on the far wall of the Dallas skyline. The food was set up buffet style, the lighting was pleasant, and the wall of windows on either side gave it the feeling of a family style restaurant that April used to love going to with her mom as a kid. “It’s so cheerful and beautiful here.”
Tanner beamed at her words. “Lana’s parents did their best to honor their daughter. She loved food and bright colors, and was always inviting her friends over for sleepovers.”
“It’s awful what happened to her.” April hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Lana, or her suspicions about what might’ve really happened. But she had absolutely no proof. Just a horrible gut feeling and the intense fear that the same could one day happen to Violet. No, she couldn’t even imagine that, which was just one more reason why she needed to tell Tanner the truth about his daughter.
“It was,” Tanner said, then quickly changed the subject. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”
They weaved between smiling and talking adults who looked happy and content to be there, and more giggling and animated children. April couldn’t help the smile that stretched across her face. This place was filled with hope and joy. It was nothing likeshe’d imagined it would be, and she suddenly would’ve given anything to have Violet here with her.
Tanner turned to her then, a look of approval and excitement in his eyes. “I thought you could be in the kitchen with me today. I’ve been assigned to the potato station.”
“I think I can do that,” she hedged. Cooking wasn’t something April excelled at, but even she could put a potato in the oven and set a timer.
“Have you ever used a peeler?” Tanner asked.
“A what?” April had a feeling she should know what he was talking about, but she was definitely more of a Keurig, microwave, and take out kind of girl. Her mom had done all the cooking while she was growing up, but April had never shown any interest in it.
Tanner laughed. “Come on. This is going to be fun. And your fingers might even come out intact.” April nibbled the inside of her cheek. She couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not, but either way, she tucked her hands in closer to her sides, in an almost subconscious effort to keep them out of the way.
Tanner shook his head with a glint in his eye and reached for her arm. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect those digits.”
April feigned a smile, but secretly wondered what she’d gotten herself into. When Tanner had asked her to join him at the soup kitchen, she’d imagined an endless line of people with bowls waiting for her to ladle some soup for them.