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I move over to the table, but I remain standing behind the chair rather than sit. “What did you do with the… murder weapon?”
“Threw it as far as I could.”
“What kind of rock was it?”
Cole lets out an irritated sigh. “Does it matter?”
“What kind of rock was it?”
“A rocky rock. Hard. Rough.”
Finally, I slide into the chair, not caring to hide my displeasure at how uncomfortable it is. He’s expecting me to ask another question, but I don’t speak. Instead, I just watch him.
I can’t believe I’m starting to think this, but I’m not convinced with his story.
After a moment, I see him glance up behind me, eyes switching between either side. My guess is he’s looking for a camera, but this room isn’t the standard visitation room. It’s one that’s given to prisoners when they meet with their attorneys, which means there’s no cameras or monitoring.
There’s another reason for my silence, though. My next question is one I’m not sure I’m ready to hear the answer to.
“Why did you kill JP?”
Cole seems to relax, sitting back in his chair as much as the handcuffs will allow. He shrugs. “I felt like it.”
There are people in the world who can—and do—kill, for no reason other than they want to. But whether it’s fun or self-defense, I expect there’d be some form of reaction. Regret, sadness, pleasure… something.
He gives me nothing but a glimmer. The briefest moment where he diverts his gaze instead of meeting me in the eye, and it’s not done because he’s showing how much he doesn’t care.
For years, I’ve imagined how I would react if I was ever left alone in a room with this guy, and no matter how elaborate the scenario played out, it would always end in one way.
Me covered in his blood.
I get up, take three strides to make it to his side of the table and then, as hard as I can, punch him in the face.
As he cries out in pain, I pull a handkerchief from my pocket, wipe the small amount of blood from my hand, and then walk over to the door. After a quick knock, the door opens, and ignoring the scene behind me, the guards allow me to leave.
I feel like I’m stuck in one of my dream scenarios as I walk back to the entrance to collect my phone and car fob. My expression is kept blank, and my mind is strangely quiet.
Until I look at my phone screen and the hundreds of notifications.
XXXX
Tori
“Tori?” Penny’s voice is low, but there’s an urgent edge to it. “Tori, wake up.”
Sleepily, I roll over, rubbing at my eyes and the massive pile of dry gunk that seems to be pasting my eyelids shut. “I’m awake,” I mumble.
After I left Denali House, I started walking to Payne’s office. He said to call him if I was in trouble, but after I left and realized no one was following me, I took a moment to think.
Calling Payne felt like the nuclear option. Like I was on a secret mission, and my cover had been blown, so I needed extracting. If I left, I wasn’t coming back.
I should leave.
At this point, getting out is the sane and safe option.
And something I’m actually going to do…
Maybe there is something hidden on Syn’s computer, but after our conversation, I doubt it. He not only seems to genuinely have no clue, but also didn’t seem to want to know. As far as Syn was concerned, my brother killed his, and that was the end of it.
