“That I didn’t do this,” I said, raising my voice, frustrated. “I need you both to believe me.” Tears crept up in my voice. “I didn’t kill Winston Donovan. I swear I didn’t. If you two can’t believe me, how can I expect it from a bunch of strangers?”
Both men looked at me reassuringly.
“Of course, sis,” Billy Ray replied quickly, shooting the grill a concerned look. “The steak is done. Very well done. Come on, you guys.”
But I didn’t budge, my eyes locked on to Colton’s. “Doyoubelieve me?” I asked again, in just a whisper.
“Of course I do,” he replied, his voice level and reassuring. “Why do you even doubt it?” His voice sounded honest, albeit a bit worried.
“Good,” I said, opening a drawer and pulling out some silverware. “Because I know who killed him. His wife, Claire.”
The statement made Colton stop in his tracks, halfway through the door with the stack of plates in his hand. “Why do you say that?”
I almost spilled everything out that moment, but I stopped myself in time. Some things were better left unsaid. If the sordid story ofWinston’s ransom ever came out, it would do me a world of damage with a judge and jury. They would find me contemptible, and that was just another word for guilty as charged. And Colton would never look at me the same way again. He’d be disgusted by what I’d become.
“Because she had motive. I didn’t,” I said, instead of offering the whole truth. I walked outside and yanked the plates from the stack he was holding, setting them down with sharp clinks that echoed in the quiet. Napkins were abandoned at the center of the table in an unsightly pile. The silverware clattered as I dropped it beside the plates without care. Each movement was quick, almost jerky, as if keeping my hands busy could quiet the storm inside me.
Colton looked straight at me, serious, his pupils dilated and intense. There was something chilling in his gaze, for a split second, and then it went away. “Did you love him?”
Instinctively, I touched the engagement ring. I’d slipped it back on my finger the moment the police had given it back to me when I’d made bail, and hadn’t taken it off since.
Colton’s eyes searched mine. I looked away, fighting the threat of tears.
“Yes. I did.”
Lying would’ve been so much easier.
34
Damaged
I finished loading up the dishwasher, feeling a dull ache between my shoulder blades. I was exhausted, and so was Billy Ray, who’d passed out on the couch, ballcap lowered over his eyes and hands folded over his belly. He’d been driving all night to get to me.
For a moment, I stood silently, looking at the world around me. My brother was there with me, which I’d dreamed about on many lonely evenings with my fingers hovering over my phone, fighting the urge to call him. And Colton was out on the patio, reviewing the case file delivered by his assistant while we’d been eating.
And still, everything about our little reunion was wrong. Our first meal together after ten years had been a crestfallen, grim affair. Fear strangled me so fiercely I couldn’t breathe freely, as if its steeled fingers were wrapped around my heart, squeezing the life out of me. From one moment to the next, I vacillated from feeling completely desperate to clinging on to the belief that I could somehow prove that Claire had killed Winston.
I looked at Colton, who sat on the wicker furniture outside, flipping through the pages of the thick file. His shoulders were hunched forward, his forehead lined with worry and his eyebrows scrunched together. Whatever was in that file, it wasn’t good.
It took every bit of strength I had left to join Colton out on the patio. Closing the sliding door quietly, so as not to wake Billy Ray, I walked over to the couch and sat by Colton, then forced a smile onto my lips. “Anything interesting?”
He was quick to close the file and set it on the coffee table. Too quick. Then he turned and looked at me, the frown still lingering on his brow. “Billy told me,” he said quietly, looking into the distance, and then, eventually, at me. “All of it. What happened to you.”
My breath caught in my lungs. I turned away, feeling ashamed. Then I straightened my back and looked at him, remembering that none of what had happened had been my fault. None of it, even what I’d since had to do to survive.
“I had no idea,” he said, reaching for my hand. I let him have it, and responded to his gentle squeeze, even if my fingers felt ice cold, paralyzed. “I just thought you’d left me and Billy and everything. I didn’t stop to ask myself why.” He lowered his head for a moment, seemingly struggling with his own guilt. “Well, I thought I knew why. I knew your father roughed you two up, but I never imagined—”
His words hung in the air, heavy and unfinished. I swallowed hard, my mind racing.Do I tell him everything?The weight of the truth pressed against my chest, but so did the fear—the fear of shattering whatever image he still held of me, the girl I used to be. The girl I wanted to be again, even if just in his eyes.
I took a shaky breath, finding the words that hurt to say.
“It’s okay, Colton. It’s over now. And I should’ve told you. I kept thinking about that, when I was gone. How you should’ve heard from me. But I couldn’t bring myself to tell you what had happened. I wanted you to think of me as beautiful and innocent, the girl you fell in love with. Not someone so ... damaged.”
He drew a bit closer to me. “You’re not damaged, Hattie.”
“Please don’t call me that,” I whispered, pulling my hand from his grip.
He looked at me intently, reminding me of how Detective Stanek had looked at me in interrogation. “I won’t ask you why. You’ll tell me when you’ll be ready.” I nodded. “And you’re not damaged.”
