“Don’t apologize, Melody. I just wish you would have let Brandon be there for you as he was for me. I’m sure losing Joey hurt you as much as it did us.”
“It did. It was just a… different type of grief.”
Mrs. McGee curls her hand over mine. “Then why did you leave? I still, to this day, can’t fathom why you stayed away for so long. I understand Joey represented your father—”
“It wasn’t that. That isn’t why I left.”
“Then, what was it?” There’s no malice in her tone whatsoever. She truly wants the best for me. I just don’t know how I can be honest with her and not ruin the legacy of her son. She loves Joey, so much so, I could never burden her with the guilt and hurt I’m feeling. Joey killed himself because he couldn’t live with what he had done. I don’t want the woman I’ve seen as a mother blaming me for her son’s death. I already blame myself, so there’s no need to place the burden onto someone else’s shoulders.
When I feel tears prickling in my eyes, I make an excuse to leave before they can fall. “I’m sorry. I forgot about an important meeting. I must go.”
When I leap up to my feet, Mrs. McGee mimics my movements. “Melody, honey, what’s wrong? I swear to you, nothing you could ever tell me would have me looking at you differently.”
I want to believe her, but I can’t as my secret isn’t just about me. It’s about her blood. “It’s nothing. I’m fine. Give Brandon my best wishes.”
I snatch up my purse before hightailing it out of the bakery. I barely make it halfway down the block when the hairs on my arms prickling to attention slows my brutal speed. After swinging my head to the left, I slowly drag it to the right. I stop holding my breath when I spot Julian standing at the corner of the bakery. He knew today was going to be hard for me, but instead of discouraging me against it, he positioned himself in an area where he could dispense soul-fixing hugs in an instant.
It makes me love him even more.
13
BRANDON
“Head in the game, punk. This is your punishment for scouring the pages of gossip magazines to keep up to date on your girl’s life instead of being a part of it.”
While riding the elevator to the floor of Isabelle’s apartment, I respond to Grayson as if he’s standing next to me instead of talking shit in my ear. “For one, how is a date with a gorgeous woman classified as a punishment? And two, I wasn’t scouring the pages. I just happen to stumble upon an article about her upcoming engagement party.”
“Bullshit. I don’t even need to hack your phone to know you have her name on google alerts.”
I use the elevator’s ding announcing I’ve arrived at Isabelle’s floor as an excuse to ignore Grayson snickering in my ear. I haven’t stopped searching for news articles that include Melody’s name since her engagement was announced two weeks ago, but I’m never going to admit that to Grayson. He has a memory like an elephant. He never forgets anything, and he forever uses my neuroses against me.
“Remind me again why you need to listen in on my dinner date with Izzy?”
I wait for Grayson to respond before rapping my knuckles on the white door of Isabelle’s apartment. “Because she didn’t request you to get the file she did for no reason. There are too many loose threads for us to brush this off as a coincidence.”
He’s right—again. Still fucking sucks, though.
With Alex breathing down my neck, I didn’t put two and two together until much later than I care to admit. Annie’s father was a police chief. He hadn’t pulled over a rundown Mazda for a registration check in over two decades, so why the fuck did he do that the day he was killed?
If it wasn’t the first time he had done something odd on the job, I would have brushed it off as a cop not being able to step away from the role when he isn’t on the clock, but his name has popped up too many times the past two weeks to utilize that pathetic excuse.
Police Chief Langfield was the arresting officer cited on the non-doctored police file Isabelle requested. He was first on the scene when Marjorie Hawke, Hugo Marshall’s baby sister, was mowed down by suspected mafia associate, Roberto Petretti. Even with Langfield witnessing the accident, his name wasn’t on any of the official documents lodged with the court when Roberto was offered a plea bargain, nor was he brought forward as a witness.
If that isn’t suspicious enough, he was killed on duty only five short weeks later.
It happened to be the same day Roberto disappeared off the face of the planet.
Coincidence? Unlikely.
“Either Tobias trained Isabelle better than he trained us, or Isaac opened up to our Honey Pot. It’s the least he should have done after you revealed he’s a cheating scumbag.”
My jaw tightens as the memory of Isabelle’s whitening face fills my head. Alex didn’t have much luck tracking down Isaac’s whereabouts the weekend Isabelle went away with Harlow, but it was obvious Isaac was with Isabelle. Not only did she attempt to resign the day after they returned, Isaac was seen walking with her to her door. It was a mere two hours before he was spotted on a date with a mysterious blonde. I showed the image of them kissing to Isabelle the following morning, hopeful it would get her back on the straight and narrow. It seems to have worked. Reid, Alex’s head of surveillance, hasn’t logged any activity between Isaac and Isabelle in weeks.
I’m drawn from my thoughts when Grayson says, “Whatever the reason, we need to record your conversations to ensure our asses are covered if the shit hits the fan.”
“Recorded officially?”
“Fuck no,” he replies, his voice almost a roar. “We’ll let the Bureau know when they’re—”
