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“Take a look at the trajectory of that bullet,” Jasper says.
I inhale deeply, steeling myself for what I might find as I scan from the barrel of Zeke’s gun towards my father. Nothing’s there.
“How?” I murmur, frowning at the screen. I’ve watched this video so many times I have the sequence almost memorized. The bullet should be nearly at my father’s temple by now since he’s about to look up and then—
There’s a brief moment between when the trigger is pulled, to when my father looks up, before the bullet pierces his skull.
There’d have to be a noise that caught his attention, though, right? But if the bullet hit him—
“Look to the right,” Jasper says, cutting off my thoughts.
I scan the screen, searching to the right of where my father stands. My brows furrow and I lean in, not wanting to miss a single inch of space. Then I see it. My blood freezes in my veins as the bullet embeds itself into the brick wall to the right of my father’s head.
How had I missed that before? But the video had been grainy in spots, and without it being slowed down on this level and enhanced, there was barely a delay between the first shot and the bullet piercing through that mask.
“I took a look at the cop’s notes, and since the bullet was different from the one that hit your father, they assumed it had to have been embedded there some other time—not a hard conclusion to come to when there’s a party of gang leaders just on the other side of the door,” Jasper explains. Some of his words sink in, making it past the thick fog hazing over my mind. I focus on that spot as if it’s the answer I’d been searching for this whole week. “Of course, there was brick debris found on your father’s jacket, but the investigators thought it was from the second bullet when it exited—“
“I get it,” I say, cutting him off. I’d watched the video enough times to know what happened next. “So someone else had to have pulled the trigger the second time.” The words are hesitant, yet hopeful, needing Jasper’s confirmation to truly believe this is real.
“Exactly. The gunman in view doesn’t pull the trigger a second time,” Jasper says.
I exhale a shaky breath, some of that tension easing away. There are still so many answers I need, but some of the thick cloud of loneliness and sorrow that had settled over me since Monte first showed me this video clears with each second that passes.
Zeke didn’t kill my father.
I take a moment to let that thought sink in. I knew something wasn’t right after watching the clip the first few times, but I didn’t let that hope blaze out of control. The plummet into the deepest depths of despair if it wasn’t true would have been inescapable.
And now I have it—my answer—the miracle from my pleas to the goddess.
“I’m sorry about your father, Sky,” Jasper murmurs, snapping me back to reality.
“Thanks, Jasper. And thank you for your help,” I say numbly, still stricken with disbelief.
“I really don’t feel like I did much to help though,” he sighs, clearly misreading my tone. Not that I blame him. If he only knew the half of it ... “I might’ve answered who didn’t kill Godric, but you still don’t know who the murderer is.”
“You’ve helped more than you know,” I say, swallowing the words I wish I could let out. I trust Jasper, but I can’t say anything, not until I get the full story from Zeke.
“Ahh, the secret pack stuff again,” he huffs out on a breath of amusement. His tone sobers as he continues. “Be careful, Sky. I did a bit of digging, and I’m sure you know the man in that clip is Zeke Andino. He’s a dangerous guy.”
“Yeah, he is.” I can’t help the small smile that stretches across my lips. The Whitlocks aren’t cleared yet. For all I know, one of them had shot that second bullet. I can’t help but find the thought amusing. Sure, I was uneasy around Zeke at first, but now, I know I could take him—probably. “But I think I can handle him.”
“If you’re sure,” Jasper says hesitantly. “Don’t be a stranger, Draven, and let me know if you need my help again.”
“Will do, and you be sure to do the same.” I slump back in my chair, barely suppressing the urge to pinch myself.
“I might need a place to hide if my father doesn’t get off my back about ‘learning the family business.’” He chuckles, but the sound dies out as he realizes what he’s just said.
“Take it from me, Jasper,” I breathe, staring at the computer screen at the last moment my father was alive. A wave of sorrow washes over me—the time we never had, the time we both wasted. “Don’t wait until it’s too late.”
“Stay safe, Sky.”
“You too,” I murmur, and bring the phone away from my ear. I disconnect the call, but just as I’m about to place the phone down, it vibrates in my palm.
“What now?” I sigh to myself, not even wanting to look down at the caller ID. All I want to do right now is take a long, hot bath and sleep for at least a day or two before I figure out this mess.
I rub at my eyes as exhaustion begins to set in. My adrenaline has had me laser-focused the last week, barely allowing me to get a few hours of rest before I anxiously watched the video again and again.
I suck in a deep breath as it vibrates again.
