Half truth

Chapter Three

When I stepped outside my apartment and turned to lock the door, I saw a flyer for a nearby coffee shop attached to the knob. I pulled it off and looked at it as I locked up. It had a couple of pictures showcasing the homey environment and a coupon for fifty-percent off a drink. I looked at the other doors. Everyone else must have risen way earlier than I had because there were no flyers on their doors. I had to walk a good three blocks away from Millionaire’s Row in order to get the small-town vibe the idyllic town promised. When I reached the area that, according to my doorman, Gary, people around here called College Town, I got that vibe. With mom and pop shops lined along the streets and a plethora of bars and coffee shops, it was exactly what I’d been hoping for. Yet, as the winds picked up, blowing my hair in my face, I wondered what the hell I was doing here. Between my talk with Celia about Lana and thinking about Lincoln all morning, I couldn’t help that nagging thought. I shut it off and kept moving forward until I reached the coffee shop from my flyer.

As I pulled the door open, the smell of old books and coffee beans hit me. There were bookshelves all along the walls, big blue couches with wood coffee tables in front of them, and a couple of two-seater tables with chairs. It was the perfect place to sit and read, write, or endlessly scroll social media whilst drinking a latte. I walked over to the line and ordered my ski

“They say the temperature should stick a few more weeks.”

“That would be nice.” I turned my attention to the barista making my latte. We had perfect weather right now—mid-sixties and su

“Gives people a chance to go out on their boats a few more times.”

I nodded, smiling as I looked around. Maybe while they were out on their boats, I could camp out in here and do some research—more research. Truth be told, I’d stopped Googling things about Lana a month ago, after getting nowhere and not seeing any new information anywhere. Aside from the random Reddit blogs and conspiracy theorists, which I absolutely refused to read, there was nothing to go on. She’d been kidnapped, they said. Taken from her building. But the staff at the building themselves said they’d seen her leave on her own. If that was the case, what was the deal?

“Are you new here?” She slid my latte over to me, tucked her lavender locks behind her ears and set her elbows on the counter, the movement making her dainty necklace dangle forward. My eyes focused on the tiny B before bringing my gaze to her light brown eyes. “I haven’t seen you in here before.”

“I am. I decided to transfer over for my last year.”

“Oh, where’d you go before?”

“Duke.”

“Not bad.” Her eyebrows hiked up. “What brings you here?”

“It’s kind of a family tradition.” I sipped my latte. “Seemed like I’d be letting down a line of men if I didn’t attend.”

“Wouldn’t want to let down the patriarchy.” Her smile held a slight grimace when she said the words. “I’m Hailey, by the way.”

“Amelia. You can call me Mae.” I set down my mug. “How long have you been working here?”

“A while. My mom owns the place. We’re one of the few original townies. I also work at the bar across the street at night.” She stood up straight and pointed in that direction, my gaze followed and fell upon a place named The Bar. “If you ever want to hear some of these people’s deepest, darkest secrets, I’m your girl.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

“I get off in about two minutes. If you want, I can sit with you while you finish your coffee and then I’ll show you around.”

“Actually, I’d like that. I’m afraid I’ve ventured way out of my comfort zone and my phone died.” I wiggled it. “I forgot to charge it last night and I don’t think I can retrace my steps back to my apartment.”

“I’ll take you. I know every single street and alleyway.” She reached behind her waist and pulled her apron off, hanging it up on the wall behind her, walking over to where I was.

“I don’t know why I thought it would be easier to get around here.” I closed the distance to the nearest couch and settled in with my coffee.

“Becca, I’m off the clock,” Hailey shouted.

“Got it,” someone, Becca, I assumed, shouted back. “Deacon is supposed to be here in five minutes.”

“That’s an easy way to get off the clock.” I smiled over my coffee.

“Family business, remember?” Hailey said. “Owned and operated. Deacon is our uncle, but he’s only like five years older than me, so he’s more like an older brother and Becca’s my sister. Half-sister. Same mom, different dads.”

“That’s pretty cool. That’s my dad’s dream, to have all his kids working together in one place.”

Of course, a multi-million-dollar media industry, which included various television networks all over Latin America and the US hardly compared to a coffee shop and bar. In all honesty, I’d take this life over the one my father wanted us to be a part of any day.

“What does he do?” Hailey asked.

“He owns businesses.”

“Hm. You don’t seem thrilled about that.” She looked at me for a long, silent moment.

“I’m not.” I looked at my coffee and focused on that.

“Maybe you’ll end up loving working for your dad. Mine was never around, so I guess you can say I have daddy issues, or abandonment issues, or really any kind of issue therapists try to pin me with.”

“I’m sorry.” I lowered my mug. “I didn’t mean to be insensitive. I should’ve asked.”

“Yeah, because that’s a totally normal question—hey, did your father abandon you as a kid? Just checking so I don’t bring up my own, loving, doting father.” Hailey let out a forced laugh. “Trust me, it’s totally cool.”

“I never said mine was loving or doting.” I raised an eyebrow. “Anyway, maybe you should start telling me all of those deep, dark secrets now before I put my foot in my mouth again.”

“What do you want to hear about first? The supposed serial killer? The secret societies?”

“Wow.” I didn’t know if I should be hearing about either of those things right now, but I shrugged anyway. “Both, I guess. Is the serial killer related to . . . Lana Ly?”

“No. I don’t think so anyway.” She glanced at me wide-eyed. “I’m surprised you know about her and came anyway.”

“Oh my God.” I laughed despite myself. “If I had a dollar for everyone who said that to me.”

“You’d be the youngest person on the Forbes list this year?”

“Not quite, but on my way there. Let’s talk the secret societies. I’m guessing they’re less dangerous than the serial killers.”

“Depends who you ask.” She laughed at the look on my face. “I’ve been pretty obsessed with them since I was a kid. I know someone in them, well, allegedly, and the idea of them fascinates me.”

“Are you a journalism major?” I perked up in my seat.

“More like, nosey as hell. I’m a psych major, but I want to be a private detective.”

“As a job?”

“Yeah. As a job.” She laughed. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing at all. I’d just never really heard of a young person say they wanted to do that.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I’m a journalism major, so I’d love to report on world causes, investigative news, things like that.”

“I would’ve pegged you as a fashion blogger.”