Page 169 of Gilt

“Fine,” he promises. “I think Hugo actually gave me some street cred. My Dad says I look like a real man.” Jonas’s smile slips, and he forces it back on his face, but it no longer reaches his eyes. We both knew that if his father knew the truth, he wouldn’t be so proud.

“One more year,” I remind him, “and then we can get out of here.”

“Not sticking around?” Of course, Jonas remembers my plan to stay in town and run my dad’s shop. Because regardless of the mistakes he’s made, he’s a genuinely decent guy. I’m counting on that decency to help me out.

“I think I’d prefer to get the hell out of town,” I say with a laugh.

“I’m glad you aren’t staying here,” he says conspiratorially, his chocolate-brown eyes rich with concern. “This place will poison you—turn you into someone you aren’t.”

Like someone willing to use anyone and everyone she knows to get what she wants? I try to push my self-disgust down, but it keeps rising to the top. If I don’t find out who killed Nathaniel West, I’ll have the crime hanging over my head for the rest of my life. I tell myself it’s not self-service that compels me to use every resource I have to uncover the truth, but rather self-preservation.

“I need your help.” I can’t stomach sitting here and pretending to be a considerate friend, regardless.

Jonas sighs and settles back against his bed. He points to his desk chair, and I take a seat. “I was worried you were going to say that.”

“Am I that transparent?” I ask.

“Consider it a good thing. But after all these years and what I did to you, I don’t deserve a house call. That’s what gave you away.” He winks at me, but I see the sorrow hiding in his eyes.

“Maybe you aren’t as bad as you think.” I pull the folder out of my bag and hold it up. “But you’re right I came here for a reason.”

“What is that?” he asks, not bothering to get up. In this town, I wouldn’t take a nondescript folder, either.

“The case file on Nathaniel West’s murder.” If this is going to work, I have to be completely honest with him. It’s a leap of faith to spill my plans to another soul, but I was recently told I needed to be a bit more trusting. I believed Jonas when he said he had nothing to do with the murder, but that’s not the reason I’ve come to him.

“And why do you have it?”

“I paid for it.” I toss it on the bed. “You might want to skip the pictures. They’re hard to get out of your head.”

Jonas doesn’t pick it up. “Why are you telling me this, Emma?”

“Because we both know that whoever did this is following your account.”

“I’m not posting anymore,” he says flatly.

“Look, you created The Dealer to restore some karmic balance to Belle Mère.”

“All it did was hurt people,” he stops me.

“Then this is your chance to make things right.”

“How?” he asks.

“By catching the person who killed Nathaniel West once and for all.” I shove a few papers that have fallen out back into the folder. “I’m having a party at the Wests. All I need you to do is post a photo of this in the office.”

“Where he was killed?” Jonas’s face is ashen.

“Whoever did it will know it’s a message. They’ll come looking for the file.”

“And you’ll catch them red-handed.” Jonas pauses to considerate, then he shakes his head. “You can’t be sure they’re still following the account.”

“They are,” I say firmly.

“But how do you know?” He doesn’t share my certainty, but that’s not important.

“I know they’ll come looking for one reason because they haven’t been caught yet.”

“You aren’t as clever as you think you are,” Maddox says, drawing my attention away from my cell phone after we leave Jonas’s house.