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To distract myself from replaying the look on Cash’s face when he told me to get out, my mind rewinds to the night Beth died and tries to look at everything from a new angle now that we know Leo is the slayer.
The first thing that comes to mind is the moment in the interrogation room when Leo punches the table. I thought his knuckles were bruising quickly, but what if that was leftover ink from a fake tattoo?
And then, with his leading, I remembered Cash’s tattoo, something to directly point at Cash. Followed by his confusing insistence that I don’t look too deeply into Cash—because of course it was never him. He probably chose Cash because he knew Cash could fight any circumstantial charges.
In a way, it’s genius. Don’t just hide your identity, point to an entirely different identity. But never enough evidence that your fall guy will ever get caught. A perfect cover, one he could keep using again and again.
Until I showed up again and again. Poking holes in his perfect plan.
And when the envelope was delivered to the police station, he knew I was there because reception called him when I arrived, and it took him ten minutes to meet me in the lobby. Plenty of time to call a courier and have them dispatch a pre-arranged package.
The photograph taken outside my apartment…He could have had a camera set up across the street for weeks keeping an eye on me. Maybe Beth too when she was alive, I realize with a chill.
By the time the sun rises, I am still tossing and turning and becoming increasingly disturbed by the way Leo, the cop responsible for solving my friend’s murder, was the murderer all along.
But if the last few years have taught us anything, it’s that not all cops are good.
I look out the window and see the first early birds walking into June Bug Café across the street.Coffee.That’s what I need.
I throw on some clothes and head out. Of course, I’m greeted by a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed Alfie, who gives me a big smile before sobering and barely sparing me a glance as he fixes his gaze straight ahead.
He speaks up when I press the elevator button. “Where you going?”
“Just across the street for coffee. You want anything?”
“You shouldn’t go alone.”
“It’s twenty feet away, Alfie. You can watch me from the window.”
“Fine. Pumpkin spice latte with almond milk.” I suppress a smile. “Dairy gives me the squirts,” he adds under his breath, and I bite my cheek to keep from laughing until the elevator arrives.1
The fresh air feels nice, but I still feel like a zombie as I cross the street. Especially when I spy the table I spilled coffee at during my failure of a stakeout. Actually, not a zombie—zombies don’t feel pain. And that’s all I feel right now.
I’m recklessly optimistic that coffee will help, but I know lack of sleep is the least of my issues.
I space out after ordering, counting the pins on a bulletin board above the straws and sugars. My eye catches on a poster for salsa-dance classes, and I briefly wonder if Cash would do that with me. Once he can stand looking at me again. Or touching me without inflicting pain.
I curse the tears welling in my eyes. As if I should be the one crying. I’m the perpetrator, not the victim.
I hear my name called and realize it probably wasn’t the first time as everyone in the shop is looking at me. “Thanks,” I mutter as I grab the cups and a drink tray. I got an espresso for Cash. A measly peace offering, but it’s a start.
I know I have a big climb to forgiveness ahead of me, but he’s worth it.
He always has been. I’ve just been too selfish to realize.
Maybe one day I’ll have a chance to show him how much he means to me. But until then, I’ll treat each day as that chance.
I step off the curb and nearly drop all the drinks as I jump back to avoid a car whipping into a parking spot. I prepare a string of obscenities as they roll down their window. I swear to god if they try to tell me towatch where I’m going—
“Get in.” My heart stutters as Leo’s cool, blue eyes stare back at me. He lifts a gun from his lap and points it out the window. “Get in or that mom with the stroller behind you gets a bullet in the brain.”
I stay frozen, willing myself to move, when he smiles cold and malicious. “Call my bluff, Harlow. See what happens.”
The baby behind me starts to fuss, and I hear the mother trying to soothe it. That’s enough to make me open the car door and get in even with a gun aimed at me.
“Quite the little stunt you pulled at the reopening last night.” Leo’s voice is the same smooth, charming cadence as always, but now it’s tainted like sugar-coated poison. He looks at me. “That was you, I assume?”
I despise his smugness and press my lips tight together. He continues as if this conversation isn’t one-sided. “I thought you surely found the necklace, so imagine my surprise when I see you coming out of his apartment this morning.”
