Truth & Tenderness by Tere Michaels Page A

door.
    “I love you,” Griffin said, and Daisy gave him her best brave smile. “Bennett loves you—remember that.”
    “I know.” Daisy blew kisses to Sadie, who was now wearing Griffin’s glasses, and then she was gone.
    Griffin looked at the—blurry—closed door, then at Sadie, who was blinking at him behind his round glasses.
    “Oh Sadie girl, what are we going to do with these people?”
     
     
    J IM STOOD in the posh lobby of the Trump Hotel, hands in the pocket of his suit pants. A small overnight bag sat next to the sleek tan leather chair he’d claimed. He’d spent two hours of coffee and texting with Matt, going over the specific dates and times they needed Tracey to confirm.
    He had to get something from her, something that would compel the Ashland detectives to act.
    And now it was going to happen.
    Tracey had sent him a message from another unknown cell number, and in a few minutes, they would meet.
    It didn’t take long to spot her. She walked out of the elevators a few feet from where he was waiting, dressed in a smart black pantsuit, her hair tucked up in a simple twist.
    Jim blinked. Liz had him prepared for a broken woman, a woman overwhelmed by her fear as she hid from her husband.
    Tracey looked like a model.
    Her smile was meek, though, as she spotted him. They met in the middle of the elaborate gold-and-mirror lobby. He extended his hand like this was a casual meet-up with an acquaintance.
    “Detective,” she murmured, her hand cold and small in his.
    “You can call me Jim.”
     
     
    T HEY SETTLED into the seat grouping farthest away from the check-in desk. Tracey’s back was ramrod straight, hands folded in her lap. Jim settled across from the couch. He smiled tightly, trying to remain calm and focused on the young woman before him.
    “I appreciate this, Tracey. I want you to know, before we start, that if you need assistance—if I can help put you in touch with people.”
    Tracey nodded, twisting a slim gold bracelet on her wrist. “Thank you. I’m all right for now. My parents have been helping me with some money and uh—once the lawsuit is done….” She trailed off as Jim shifted in his seat.
    Money for the divorce, Jim assumed. He didn’t bother to comment.
    Silence settled between them as the murmur of guests arriving and departing around them swarmed.
    He cleared his throat and began.
    “I don’t want to talk about that girl in Los Angeles,” Tracey said softly. “You can’t do anything to him because—”
    “I know,” Jim cut in, rubbing his hands on his suit pants. Calm, he reminded himself. Calm. “We don’t have to go over that.” The urge to ask her about providing his alibi hurt as he buried it down deep. “Can we talk about you and Tripp in college?”
    Tracey’s doe eyes widened a fraction. “College?”
    “You went to Ashland, in Southern Oregon.”
    She nodded slowly.
    “And you played lacrosse.”
    She tipped her head to one side as if trying to figure out his line of questioning. “Yes. Four years.”
    From memory, Jim reeled off some of the colleges she had competed against, mixing up various schools with the towns where the murders occurred.
    She nodded through each one. “That sounds right,” she said as he finished his list.
    Jim’s heartbeat sped up. He could feel his mouth drying up, his tongue swelling as he pressed it against the roof of his mouth. “Did Tripp ever travel with you?”
    “My sophomore year,” Tracey murmured, a tiny hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “He said he would miss me too much if he didn’t.”
    It was all Jim could do not to get up and beat his chest.
     
     
    H E VIBRATED from the Trump Hotel to the airport to the plane. He texted Matt everything Tracey told him, hands shaking as he settled into his first-class seat.
    They had confirmation.
    Jim reined in his emotions as best he could, but the replay loop in his mind would not stop.
    Before they parted, Tracey had shaken his hand,