Page 171 of Playing By Ear

She slapped her palm against the wardrobe. “This monstrosity.” She turned to Jamie. “You had to look at it every day. You had such a magical mind, I convinced myself you imagined it.” Her face crumpled. “Jamie, I’m so sorry.”

He took a step toward her. “Bel, it’s not⁠—”

“Because of your lies,” she said, pivoting back to Martin. “My whole life, when I heard rumors about you killing Ritchie, I felt so smug, knowing the ‘real story,’ that he’d only been banished. The story you fucking fed me!”

She lunged forward to grasp the foot of the profiling bed.

Layla stood and let loose a growl so low it was almost subsonic. Belinda had the most natural reaction—and the most foolish: She stared right into Layla’s yellow eyes.

The dog’s lips curled back, and the growl became a snarl.

On instinct, Jamie started forward, ready to put himself between his sister and those fangs.

“Haw!” Martin’s voice commanded the room in a way it hadn’t done in weeks. “Layla, sit. Youse two, back away and stop staring her down like a couple of fools.”

Jamie reached for Belinda’s hand. She shook him off, trembling with fury, but accompanied him away from the bed.

Layla sat rigidly, awaiting the next instruction. Martin lifted his good hand, then lowered it. The dog lay down, setting her head across his knees and fixing her gaze on Belinda, hackles still raised like a row of Stegosaurus plates.

In the silence Martin said, “I’ll never forgive myself. If it helps.”

“It doesn’t help.” Belinda wiped her face, though she’d shed no tears yet. “Why couldn’t you lie to Jamie just now?” She turned her fury on Jamie. “And why did you have to ask him about it? Couldn’t you let it be?”

“Gonnae no blame your brother,” Martin said. “He was right to ask for the truth, and I gave it to him.”

“You gave it to him because you won’t be around to deal with the consequences. Now it’s all ruined.”

Jamie started. “What’s ruined?”

“All of this.” Belinda waved her hand between the three of them. “This time together. This connection. This family.”

Jamie felt like he’d been kicked in the chest for the second time in five minutes. “I’ve ruined the family? Dad killed Ritchie, and somehow I’m the one who’s broken us?”

“I-I never said that,” she stammered.

“You’re raging because I shattered this pathetic charade we’re all performing. You’d rather we carry on believing we’re running ourselves into the ground to look after a decent man who would never kill his own family.” Jamie spread his arms. “Who would never kill you and me.”

“Oi,” Martin said, weakly now. “Youse two and Ritchie aren’t the same, and you know it.”

“I knew it for a while,” Jamie said. “Now I feel lucky I left when I did.”

This room—this house—was stealing his strength. So he escaped again, leaving Belinda staring at the floor and Martin staring at the ceiling.

Perry waved goodbye to Ben and John as Ben’s car drove off. Then he unfolded his cane and hurried toward his building’s front gate. He had to alert Jamie about Russell recognizing him, pronto. He’d not had a moment out of his friends’ earshot to dictate a warning message.

Upstairs, Perry put his key in his flat’s entry lock—and found it already unlocked.

Frigid fear washed over him. Was it one of the MacKray clan, come to “persuade” him to keep clear of Jamie so he wouldn’t embarrass the family with his camming? Or someone from a rival firm, hoping to hold Perry hostage to extort the MacKrays?

No. Jamie had a key. Still, Perry opened the door slowly and silently, then reached into the entryway until he touched Jamie’s jacket hanging on the hook.

He blew out a long breath, trading terror for confusion. Why was Jamie here and not at his father’s house?

Perry found him sitting at the kitchen table.

“Hi,” Jamie said with a rasp.

“What’s happened?” Perry dropped into the chair beside him. “Is it your dad?”