But Eli was already cracking up. “You? On a runway? This I have to see.”
“Hey, I’ll have you know I can pull off a tux,” Peter shot back.
“I don’t doubt it,” Eli said, then he eyed his friend. “So…ifImay ask,” he joked, echoing Peter from earlier. “Vivien, huh?”
Peter looked out toward the street, lifting his chin and scratching some beard growth. “Yep. Vivien.”
“Don’t forget she’s still my little sister.” He gave him an elbow jab. “Hurt her and someone will die.”
Peter laughed. “I’m not going to hurt her,” he said. “But there’s definitely some chemistry there. I think. I don’t know. It’s early days. And I know she hasn’t even signed divorce papers yet, so I’m keeping it very chill.”
Eli nodded as he regarded the other man. There was no one he’d trust more with Vivien, but was she ready for another relationship? Even with a guy as great as Peter? And did Eli have a say in that? Probably not, but he might try anyway.
“So, uh…” He hesitated, then asked, “You thinking it could turn into something serious, Pete?”
“Maybe. I mean, it has potential. But I don’t know how long she’s staying in Destin, which is over an hour from Pensacola. Not a thousand-mile challenge like you and Kate, but still not easy to build a relationship.”
“If it’s real and strong and lasting, that’s just an obstacle,” Eli said. “Plus, I firmly believe God opens doors when He wants you to go through them.”
Peter gave the tight smile of a non-believer, but one who fully respected Eli’s faith. “I guess Vivien’s proximity depends on what happens with the house,” he said. “You haven’t made a decision whether or not to sell it, have you?”
Eli leaned back against the bench. “Nope. We haven’t made a final decision. There are a lot of things to consider—people’s lives and jobs, the upkeep on a place like that, and, of course, the cash cow of selling it. But it’s only April. We’ve got time to figure it out. Right now, everything’s on the table.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, letting the sun warm their tired muscles. Then Peter shifted, his posture changing slightly. He turned toward Eli, his expression more serious.
“Look,” Peter said, lowering his voice slightly. “I have some information about your father’s files.”
Eli sat up straighter. “You do? You holding out on me?”
“I don’t mean to be. I’m just not sure if it’s going to answer your questions or give you a whole bunch of new ones.”
Eli stared at him, aware of how tight his chest grew. “What is it?”
“Well, I called in a favor and was able to get some old files from the initial investigation.”
“That’s legal, right?” Eli said. “I don’t want you to go one inch outside the law.”
“I didn’t and I won’t, you can be sure of it. The files were heavily redacted, and I wasn’t allowed to take any pictures or make copies. I did determine that, yes, there was an informant. He requested—and was granted—anonymity. At least from the filings I read.”
“Oh.” Eli leaned back against the stone wall with a punch of disappointment. Anonymity was such a non-answer. “Is that SOP in a thirty-year-old case that was long closed?”
“It’s not exactlystandardoperating procedure,” Peter said. “But it’s definitely a decision made at the discretion of that department’s chief. It might mean Feds were involved in later stages of the investigation. Those guys lock everything forever and throw away the key.”
Eli nodded. “All it tells us is that there was an anonymous source, and for whatever reason, the police honored that request. Is that normal?”
“Oh, yeah. If they think the informant could be in danger or if they want to go back to him and negotiate for more information or even if they’re protecting their source from being called in as a witness. Lots of reasons,” Peter said. “But it doesn’t answer the question of whether or not it was Artie.”
Eli frowned, processing. “So Maggie might have been wrong.”
“Maybe,” Peter said carefully. “I mean, it’s still possible. But this isn’t the smoking gun that proves Artie was the one who turned him in.”
“Is that the end of it, then? All you can get your hands on?”
“Not necessarily,” he said. “I’ve got a contact within the Atlanta PD now, and that file gave me some names I could call or places I might look.”
“Don’t go to any trouble, Pete.”
He shot a “get real” look. “You know I want to help you, and it’s no trouble. I just don’t know if you’ll like what I find.”
