Tate stuck his head into the kitchen to check the progress on dinner with his chef. He and Cat were hosting Josh and Rachel, Leo and Shelly, and Winnie and Glenn for pizza and beers at the tavern. Josh was, supposedly, feeling better and chomping at the bit to get out of the house, if only for a few hours. Rachel had called Tate to ask if they could have the group get-together at the bar, so that no one had to clean up before or after for the group.
“Are you sure Josh is up for this? It hasn’t been very long,” Cat asked after he’d confirmed that the food would be readysoon. “It was only a few days ago that he was drugged up for the memorial service.”
It had been three days since the service. So far, they hadn’t heard anything about the investigation. Just how long did it take to find out the owner of a phone number?
“Rachel told me he’s a fast healer, and he started feeling better yesterday. Apparently, he’s driving her up a wall wanting to go somewhere or do something. She wants to start him small.”
To Tate, starting small meant a trip to the supermarket or even the mailbox, but Rachel and Josh never did anything by half-measures. Ever the extrovert, Josh craved being around people.
“I just hope he’s okay. He was in so much pain.”
“If he needs to go home, I’ll pack them some pizza to go and send them on their way,” Tate assured her. “It will be fine.”
Everyone seemed to arrive at once, and they all sat down at a table Tate and Cat had pushed together in the corner and out of the way. Josh was his usual talkative self, only wincing a few times when he moved the wrong way. Rachel fussed over him now and then, but appeared mostly checked out on her phone.
They appeared to be friends with Leo and Shelly again, no one bringing up the bad blood or resentment about business. In fact, the few times Rachel engaged were with Shelly.
Winnie and Glen were their usual unproblematic selves, soothing the group with their peaceful, no-nonsense vibes. Glen entertained the group with a couple of lively stories from work, which had everyone laughing as they ate their pizza.
It was exactly what they’d all needed. An uncomplicated, fun evening where no one was drunk, mad, or nasty. Instead, they were happy and content.
So, of course, it simply couldn’t last.
“I haven’t heard anything about the investigation into Tyler’s murder,” Shelly remarked. “And Josh being run off the road. Iexpected Finn to make some sort of statement to the press about how it’s going. Has anyone heard anything?”
Tate and Cat exchanged a glance, neither of them sure how to respond.
“I’m still not sure about all of that,” Leo replied to his wife. “You and I have talked about this before, and I know that we don’t agree, but I don’t think Josh was the target. They had a chance to kill him when they knocked him off his bike, and they didn’t do it. No, I think Tyler was always the target. The killer is playing all of us for a fool. Smart guy, but not smarter than everyone.”
“You think Tyler was the target?” Rachel asked, already shaking her head, her attention pulled from her phone. “But if Josh wasn’t the target, then why did they try and kill him a second time?”
“They never tried to kill him,” Leo said. “They only knocked him off the bike. They hurt him, but that’s all they were trying to do. It takes suspicion off of them. Finn is looking for Josh’s killer when, in reality, he should be looking at Tyler instead. It only makes sense.”
“You make an interesting argument,” Glen said. “I never thought about it that way before. It kind of makes sense.”
“It doesn’t make sense to me.” Rachel rolled her eyes. “We know that Josh was the intended victim because Tyler was wearing Josh’s clothes. They thought he was Josh. My husband is lucky to be alive.”
“It’s an interesting theory,” Winnie remarked. “Have you talked about it with the sheriff?”
Leo finished the last of his beer before answering.
“No, and he hasn’t asked me, which isn’t a shock. I’m not a cop. I’m just a local businessman. It’s just my opinion, and I don’t really have any evidence to back me up. Just my gut feeling. What about you, Tate? What do you think?”
Tate didn’t rush with a reply, taking his time to consider exactly what he wanted to say. Finn hadn’t said anything about not mentioning the turn the investigation had taken after the ballistics report, but he hadn’t made any statements to the press either.
“Your theory on the case is compelling, and it makes me think that you could be onto something here.”
“No, it doesn’t make any sense.” Rachel slapped the table and shot a glare at the group. The rest of Tate’s friends jumped at the sound, looking alarmed at her vehemence on this subject. She was fuming, her cheeks bright red. “They were shooting at Josh. At Josh, do you hear me?”
Rachel’s voice had risen at the end, causing several other patrons to turn and stare at the group.
“Why are you so invested in the narrative?” Leo chuckled. “Calm down. You don’t make any commission off of him being the victim, right? It could just as easily have been Tyler. If Josh was the intended victim, then why didn’t the person in the vehicle back up and run him over? Why did they let him live? That, Rachel, is what doesn’t make sense. Whether Josh’s clothes or not, that shooter couldn’t have been so far away that they mistook Tyler for Josh. They knew it was him, and they pulled the trigger.”
Through all of this, Josh had barely said a word. Tate’s gaze clashed with his friend’s, and Josh immediately turned away.
“It’s not ours to figure out,” Winnie said. “Because we’re not the police. Now, let’s talk about something more pleasant. Has anyone thought about where they might go on vacation this summer? Glen and I were talking about renting one of those RVs and driving around to see a couple of national parks.”
Rachel glowered at the friend group while Leo could barely suppress a smile at the drama. Everyone else shifteduncomfortably in their seats, Glen even blatantly checking the time on his watch.
