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And the few weeks following it.
I make a mental list of everything that happened, starting with Hayes Barlow accusing Jameson Gates of murdering Callie Sloan at a public event. Hayes Barlow running Adam off the road and lighting his SUV on fire, killing him. Being sworn into the royal guard earlier than planned. Esme breaking off her fake engagement to Jameson Gates and moving to Paris for culinary school. Learning Gianna, the former head of palace PR, was mugged and killed by a homeless man. Then learning a boat registered to Hayes Barlow washed up on the shores of Norway, the extreme amount of blood evidence coupled with bullet holes indicating he was most likely attacked by traffickers known to use the waterways as transportation routes.
Is there a connection between Adam’s and Hayes’ deaths, as well as Callie Sloan’s disappearance? Maybe even Gianna’s death, too? The only thing they have in common is Jameson Gates. But that connection seems tenuous.
As I debate if there’s a dark side to Jameson Gates, like Hayes Barlow tried to convince the world, a book on the shelf catches my attention.
Most people wouldn’t think twice about it. Would just figure Adam saved a history textbook from his grade school days.
But I know my brother. He used to hide things in this book so Dad wouldn’t find them — condoms, cigarettes, and folded up notes from girls with their phone numbers.
My gut says that’s not what he’s hiding now.
Heading across his office, I place my finger on the thick hardcover binding and pull it from the shelf. It’s relatively light, compared to how heavy a textbook like thisshouldbe. But that’s because he hollowed out the inside of the book.
But unlike all those years ago, there are no condoms. No cigarettes. No love letters from whoever his secret admirer of the week was.
There’s an envelope.
I step toward the window and peek through the blinds to confirm Rory’s still gone. When I see my SUV is the only vehicle in the driveway, I return to Adam’s desk, my heart rate slowly increasing as I stare at the envelope.
It could be nothing. Could simply be a rough copy of his vows for when he and Rory were finally married.
I don’t think that’s what I’ll find, though. He hid it in this book for a reason.
A part of me wonders if he did so in the hopes I’d eventually find it, since I was more than aware of what he used this book for when he was a teenager.
With trembling fingers, I open the envelope and pull out a handful of papers, initially confused at what I see.
There are photocopies of various IDs. Passport. Social security card. Driver’s license. All with the name Dylan Knox.
But all bearing the photo of Hayes Barlow.
Did he have a different identity? Is this what my brother found that led to his death? Did he uncover something Hayes didn’t want him to?
I grab my phone and type Dylan Knox into the search engine. As expected, I get thousands of hits, many with photos. But none bear any resemblance to Hayes Barlow.
What am I thinking? Of course they wouldn’t. Hayes Barlow is dead. His body may never have been found, but according to the forensic report, no one could have survived losing the amount of blood found on Hayes’ boat when it washed ashore. And itwashis blood. DNA doesn’t lie.
Finding these documents doesn’t prove anything. It certainly doesn’t prove Hayes’ innocence. If anything, it confirms Adam had information Hayes didn’t like. Information he was willing to kill over.
Blowing out a breath, I pull myself to my feet and return the envelope to the book.
Just like I need to keep what happened between Esme and me in the past, I need to keep Adam’s death in the past. Reopening these old wounds won’t help anything.
I need to move on. For Rory. For Adam.
And for me.
ChapterThirty
Esme
“Excuse me, Your Highness.”My butler pops his head into the living area of my private suite later that afternoon as I lounge on the couch with Tristan.
While I’m happy he’s here, I’m starting to feel suffocated. Every few seconds, he asks how I’m doing. If I need anything. Tells me how worried he was about me. How agonizing the flight here was.
His heart’s in the right place. I have no doubt I’d feel the same way if our roles were reversed. I just want five minutes without being reminded of the fact I was seconds away from death.
