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My fear ramps up even more.
“I hate him,” he says more to himself than me. “I hate the man he’s turned me into.”
“Although I’ve never met him, he’s played an instrumental part in my life and the way I see the world as well,” I confess, able to commiserate with this man because we’ve both been hurt severely by the same person. “His choices have affected the way I see everything.”
Confessing that to this stranger is more cathartic than all the times I’ve said as much to my therapist.
“He hurt my mother, too,” he whispers. “Not physically, but the news of all of this broke her. She—”
“Oh God,” I whisper, having a gut feeling what he’s about to say.
“She may not make it,” he says, his eyes lifting to find mine in the near darkness. “Machines are keeping her alive. I vowed to end all the people who made her make that choice.”
His head shakes, tears now streaming freely down his face.
“I-I thought she was a little young, but now I realize—” A sob escapes his throat.
“She? Who, Weston?”
“She’s my sister? Not his lover?”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” I say as my blood runs cold.
Was I not the first person he targeted? Is he confessing to killing someone he thought was our father’s lover only for it to be another half-sister?
“Emily,” he says. “The woman in California. She’s only nineteen. I thought—”
His eyes widen with betrayal when the sound of police sirens float up from the street.
“You said you wouldn’t—”
“I didn’t,” I vow, holding my hands up in surrender when he aims the gun back at me again. “You smashed my phone, remember?”
“She’ll never be the same,” he says, the firearm in his grip trembling. “I disfigured my own sister.”
“But she’s alive?”
He doesn’t respond, his eyes are too busy darting all over the place as if the police are going to swing down from the rooftop and kick through my windows.
“You don’t have to make this worse, Weston. Put the gun down. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
“Why would you do that?” The gun is still pointed in my direction as if he can’t understand why anyone would offer to help at this point. He’s beating himself up more than I ever could. “I was so hateful to you.”
“You thought I was the reason your mother hurt herself,” I explain with a shrug, trying to look calmer than I feel. “I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to kill our father for doing that very thing to my own mom, but, Weston, your anger has always been misplaced. Even if I were a woman having an affair with him, our father is the betrayer, not the women. Can’t you see that? He’s the one who caused all of this. If not my mom, then someone else. If not Emily’s mother, then someone else.”
The gun lowers, and he drops the heavy thing on the table.
“Who called the police?”
“I was on the phone with my—friend. He must have been the one to call.” I watch him, wondering if I should give him all the details. I did tell him I was going to stick by him. “I hired a security firm after you confronted me downstairs. They have an IT specialist who’s very good at his job. There’s a very good chance that they already know you’re involved in what happened in California.”
I don’t have details, but it must be pretty bad because he flinches at the mention of it.
“Don’t give them another reason to file charges on you here, and don’t let Weston Lewis, Jr. influence anymore decisions in your life. He’s not worth it.”
Chapter 33
Jude
The police have blocked off the front of her building. I could commend them for their quick response, managing to get here before I could, but I’m left standing on the street absolutely pissed. They don’t give a shit who I am or who I work for. They didn’t care when I showed them my identification and dropped Deacon Black’s name. They don’t care that Flynn used to work for the FBI. None of that matters, even as I stand here and argue with a uniformed officer who is threatening to arrest me if I don’t calm down.
“I’m telling you, I need to get in that building.”
“And I’m going to say this one last time, sir. Until the scene is cleared, no one is allowed in or out.”
My phone rings, and I pull it from my pocket, answering it immediately when I see Wren’s number pop up on the screen.
“Tell me what’s going on in there,” I insist when I take a step back from the unrelenting cop.
“I’m good at my job but I can’t see through walls. I can tell you that she needs to move from that complex. They have shitty security and an even shittier security feed. Like why the fuck would you have two cameras on the dumpsters outside but none in the elevators? It makes no—”
