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“If you could give me another date. If I could figure out something around it, a holiday or a doctor’s appointment, something that sticks out, I might be able to tell you what I was doing. What he was doing. I don’t know what else I can do to help. I want to help.”

“Let’s stick with Atlanta for now, work forward.” Landry nodded at Boxwood.

“August eighth, same year,” Boxwood said.

“My daddy’s birthday is August ninth, and Forrest was born on August fifth. We always had a double birthday party, the Saturday or Sunday closest. I wanted to come. I hadn’t been home in a while, and I wanted Callie to visit her family. Richard said no. We had a charity gala to attend on that Saturday, and I couldn’t go running off to Daddy. I was his wife, and expected to attend, and act like I belonged. It was at the Ritz-Carlton, in Buckhead.”

“Saturday, August eighth, 2012, six figures’ worth of jewelry and rare stamps were stolen from the home of Ira and Gloria Hamburg. They had attended a gala at the Ritz that night.”

“Like in Florida,” Shelby added. “Jewelry and stamps. It must’ve been like a . . . specialty of his.”

“You could say that.” Landry sat back. “Tell us about that evening.”

25

She’d known the Hamburgs, a little, had attended a dinner party in their home. Richard had played golf with Ira Hamburg a few times, and she and Richard had hosted them at the country club. They’d socialized at other galas or fund-raisers now and then.

It wasn’t hard to remember some of the details of that particular night as she’d pictured her family here, in this house, celebrating birthdays—and had missed them.

She remembered Richard bringing her a glass of champagne at one point and telling her, impatiently, to mingle, for God’s sake, and stop sulking. He was going outside for a bit to have a cigar and talk some business with a couple of potential clients.

She couldn’t say how long she’d mingled, wandered, put bids on a couple of items in the silent auction as he’d instructed her to do. It could’ve been as much as an hour, she supposed.

“He was in a good mood when he found me—said he’d been hunting for me, and why didn’t we go check on our bids before the auction closed. I thought he’d gotten some business because he was in a better mood, and then he put a big bid on this wine package.”

“The Hamburgs live less than a mile from the hotel,” Boxwood pointed out.

“I know it.”

They asked her about other nights, days, times. Some she could remember, others were lost in a fog. From the photographs, she recognized cuff links, the diamond studs, a three-strand diamond and emerald bracelet Richard had given her once, then accused her of losing when it disappeared from her jewelry box.

Forrest lingered after the FBI stepped out.

“Do you want me to stay?”

“No, no, I’m all right. Mama will be back with Callie soon. Just . . . do they believe me? Don’t answer as my brother, but as a police officer.”

“They believe you. They played a version of good cop/bad cop with Boxwood trying to trip you up here and there, giving you the hard eye. But they both believed you. You were helpful, Shelby. The best thing now is to put it aside. Let the FBI do what they do.”

“I sold stolen property.”

“You didn’t know it was stolen, had no reason to think it had been. We’ll work that out.”

“How could I not see—how can they believe I didn’t know? I swear, if I didn’t know I didn’t know, I wouldn’t believe me.”

“The BTK killer had a wife and raised two children, lived in a community, went to church. None of them knew what he was. Some people wear masks well, Shelby, know how to compartmentalize beyond what’s normal.”

“He wasn’t right, was he? I mean, Richard couldn’t have been right inside to be able to do all he did.”

“The police officer’s telling you he was a sociopath, and a shrink would likely have a lot of fancy terms for what he was. But no, he wasn’t right. That’s done—you’re never going back to that. You’re going to have to deal with some of it, but mostly? You need to look at the here and now, and the future.”

“I’ve been trying to. What was just won’t let go. I keep finding out more.”

“You’re a Pomeroy with MacNee in your blood. You’ll stand up to it. You call me, you hear, if you need me.”

“I will. I don’t know what I’d’ve done if you hadn’t been with me today.”

“That’s just one more thing you never have to worry about again.”

Shelby thought if the whole of the Ridge didn’t know about the FBI, then they soon would. So she told her parents everything as soon as she could.

The very next morning before the first customer came into the salon, she told her grandmother and the rest of the staff.

“I thought y’all should know.”

“Ada Mae called me last night, told me all this,” Viola began. “I’ll tell you what I told her. None of this is your fault, not a bit. And we can look at that storm as the right hand of God making sure you and Callie were well rid of the son of a bitch.”

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