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There’s no smoking gun, so to speak, and each incident in isolation doesn’t raise much doubt.But when you look at everything together, it’s suspicious.
Like my brother often said.One time is a coincidence.Two times is a pattern.But three…
Well, three is reason for alarm.
And something in my gut tells me I have every reason to be alarmed right now.
Grabbing the glass off the table, I raise it to my lips and take a long sip, savoring the woodsy flavor as it travels down my throat and coats my stomach.Then I return the glass to the table and level my stare on Hayes.
“Okay,” I say.
“Okay?”He arches a single brow.
“I’ll look into this.”
This is the last thing I should be doing right now, especially considering the risk if anyone finds out I’m not only aware that Hayes Barlow is alive, but that I’m helping him prove his innocence.
But my brother deserves justice.
I have a sneaking suspicion that justice hasn’t been served.
“Thank you,” he exhales, his expression awash with a combination of excitement and relief.
I hold my hand up.“That doesn’t mean I believe your theory.Just that I agree something doesn’t add up here.If I find you’ve lied to me or misled me in any way, I won’t hesitate to turn you in.Or put a bullet in your head myself.Do you understand?”
With an unwavering gaze, he extends his hand across the table.“Agreed.”
I stare at it for several long moments, at a crossroads.I just told him I’d help him, but this seems so much bigger than simply a handshake.Like the second I take his hand in mine, I’ll embark down a path that there’s no coming back from.
But Adam deserves the truth.
I deserve the truth.
Esme deserves the truth.
So, against my better judgment, I place my hand in his and give it a firm shake.
“Agreed.”
PartTwo
Suspicion
“Pure love and suspicion cannot dwell together:
at the door where the latter enters,
the former makes its exit.”
~ Alexandre Dumas
ChapterFourteen
Esme
I feverishly scrubmy hands as I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, my heart pounding a thunderous rhythm in my chest, my breath coming out in short gasps.But no matter how hard I scrub, I can’t get what I just saw out of my mind.
Can’t erase the blood covering my hands.
