Page 41 of Dead to Me

I’d waited years to see fear on Warren Cole’s face. It looked even better than I imagined.

“You should’ve believed me,” I said.

He looked toward the door. I stepped between him and it.

“Milan.”

His voice was different now. No more tough guy, no authority. Just a man bleeding in a hotel room.

“What?”

“We can talk.”

I laughed.

“You had six years.”

He backed up toward the bed. His foot slipped on the lamp cord. He landed on the mattress and caught himself. Blood smeared the comforter.

“Milan, listen to me.”

“No.”

“You don’t know everything.”

“I know enough.”

“Malcolm killed Jeremy.”

I stopped. Warren saw it. He rushed to continue.

“It was Malcolm. I didn’t kill anybody.”

I stared at him.

“You framed me though.”

“I covered it.”

“Why?”

He swallowed. Blood seeped between his fingers.

“Money.”

I let out a quiet laugh. It was almost disappointing. Six years of my life gone. My mother died while I was away. Now, everyone thought of me as a murderer. All for money.

“How much?” I asked.

Warren shook his head.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

“Milan.”

“How much?”