Page 47 of What They'll Say About Us

"You weren't an awful person, but you did some shitty things. And I even understand why you felt so desperate to get center stage. You'd been fighting for attention your whole life. But you were never going to get the attention you needed from an audience, because that's not who you needed it from. And I couldn't even give you what you needed. Because it was your parents you wanted to impress or surpass; I'm not sure which. But I know you wanted to make them see you." He took a minute to let that sink in. "Did you ever get the attention you wanted? Did the New York audiences fill that hole?"

"No. I crashed and burned in New York. I wasn't good enough to even compete. I quit after two years and got a job in events and marketing. I became a nine-to-five corporate employee, climbing the ladder, like a million other people in those tall skyscrapers, reminding me I was nobody important. Then that company folded, and I was on unemployment, donning costumes, and putting on kids' birthday parties on the weekends. That's when I started the podcast with my friends, who were in the same layoff group. It began as a lark, a way to fill the time, talking about true crime and drinking wine. As we started to grow, I saw a way for us to get bigger, to grow our audience. We went to the scene of a crime in Maine and brought a serial killer down, and, well, it put us at the top of the charts. Now, we're running a business with sponsors and an audience with a voracious appetite for content."

"So, you're turning yourself into a star in the podcast world."

"Maybe I am," I admitted.

"And you're using Paige to get ahead. She wouldn't like that at all."

"I'm not using her. I'm trying to find out what happened and get her justice." At his mocking look of disbelief, I said, "Do you know that I almost died on the last case we solved, the one in Maine? Do you know I ended up in a hospital for two weeks and my partner, Cassidy, was almost murdered by the serial killer we put away? That was real. It wasn't drama. It wasn't fake. And this situation is just as real, and we are just as committed to getting to the truth now as we were then. I might not have chosen to open up Paige's case, but Alina asked me to do it, and I couldn't say no. And you can think whatever you want, too, Liam. You don't have to like me or trust me, but if you have any feelings about what happened to Paige, I hope you'll share them with me."

"I don't need to share them with you. I can talk to the police."

"Then do that. Detective Colton Barclay is going to lead the investigation. He was a patrol officer when Paige died. He was actually at the scene when she was pulled from the water. But he's a detective now."

"I know Colton Barclay. He plays in a basketball league with me. He seems like a decent guy."

That information didn't make me feel better, because if Barclay and Liam had some kind of friendship, then how objective would the detective be? But why was I concerned about that? I didn't really believe Liam had hurt Paige. He wouldn't have had any reason to. Even if Paige had threatened to tell me they'd hooked up or something, that wouldn't have been enough to drive him to do anything. He wasn't a man who would hurt a woman.

As silence dragged between us, Liam said, "You should go, Tessa. If Barclay has questions, I'll talk to him. He can share whatever he wants with you."

"Fine."

He walked me to the door, then opened it.

I paused in the doorway, feeling like we'd said both too much and too little.

He shook his head, as if he were reading my mind. "It doesn't matter anymore, Tessa. It was nine years ago that we were together. Water under the bridge."

"Your anger doesn't feel old."

"Well, your sudden appearance brought it back to front and center," he admitted. "I hadn't actually thought of you in a long time until you showed back up in typical dramatic Tessa fashion."

"I can't change who I was then, what I did, how I hurt you, how I hurt Paige. But now, it's only about getting to the truth."

"Her death could have been an accident. You don't know it was anything more."

"Yes, I do. I've had several attempts on my life in the last few days."

He frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Someone almost ran me over after I left you on Tuesday night. And when I was at my aunt's theater where I met up with several people from my past, including Professor Hale, Nate Gardiner, and Carrie Dunsmuir, someone knocked a sandbag off the catwalk and almost knocked me out."

"Are you sure those weren't accidents?"

"I wasn't sure after the car, but I was certain after what happened at the theater. You're not the only one who hates me. Alina's brother, Ray, is furious. Professor Hale and Carrie are also irritated about me reopening this case. Sloane had the same reaction when I talked to her today. Everyone wants me to back off. Interestingly enough, the only one who expressed a different opinion was Nate, and he was the person closest to Paige."

"Maybe because he was out of town that weekend, so you can't point your finger at him. Everyone else is fair game."

"I don't think Ray killed his sister, so he shouldn't be worried about me. I understand that his mother had a breakdown after Paige died, so maybe he's just trying to protect his family from more heartache. But Alina doesn't feel the same way. She's convinced someone took Paige's life, and I agree with her."

"I hope you're wrong. But if you're right, then you should get the hell out of Chicago, before Paige's killer tries to silence you, too." He gave me a knowing look. "But you're not going to do that, are you? You never choose the easy way out, Tessa. You always have to make things complicated and difficult."

"Sometimes I don't make it that way. Sometimes that's just the way it is." And on that note, I walked through the door and down the stairs, feeling his gaze on me every step of the way.

He'd said some cruel things to me, and I couldn't help wondering if turning the conversation toward me had been the perfect way to deflect my interest in his relationship with Paige. He'd sort of explained it, but it still felt cloudy and mysterious.

I told myself again, he wasn't a man who could hurt a woman. But what if there had been an accident? What if it hadn't been deliberate? I didn't want to doubt him, but at this point, I'd probably be stupid to trust anyone, especially someone who very clearly hated me.