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“Mr.Gates.”I jump to my feet.“Are you okay?”
“I apologize for the surprise visit.I just…” He rubs the back of his neck.“Would you like to go for a walk in the garden?I always enjoyed spending time with you out there.”He meets my gaze, almost pleading with me to agree.If getting some fresh air makes him more comfortable, I’m happy to grant his request.
“I’d like that.”
His body relaxes as he expels a long breath.“Thank you.”
I nod, skirting around my desk toward the double doors that lead to the gardens.Jameson jumps in front of me and opens them.I give him a polite smile and step out into the sunlight, basking in the warmth on my face.But any sense of relaxation is short-lived when I glance over at Jameson, who appears on edge once more.
“Is everything okay?”I ask again.
“That’s a loaded question.”
“You don’t seem like yourself lately,” I remark, unsure how to politely tell him he looks like crap.Then I lower my voice.“Did you discover something about Kingsley?”
“You could say that.”
“What is it?I’ve searched everywhere, even used my clearance to look into intelligence databases—”
“I know.”
“You do?”I stop walking, furrowing my brow.“How?”
He glances up at the sky, pinching his lips together.Then he looks my way.“Would you like to sit?”
I have a feeling whatever he’s about to tell me won’t be good news.But if it has to do with the man who killed Adam and who tried to kill me, I need to know.
My heels crunch on the gravel as I walk toward a bench.A gentle breeze carries the sweet aroma of various types of flowers, a few bees drifting from bloom to bloom, gathering nectar.As we sit, a small bird on the edge of the white marble birdbath assesses us curiously before preening its glossy feathers.
“The truth is, I’ve known about Kingsley for a while now,” Jameson says after a few moments.
“Because of Callie, right?”
“No.”He shakes his head gravely.“I knew about him even before Callie.I knew he killed her brother, Jack.”
I blink repeatedly, confusion knitting my brow.“I don’t—”
“Listen to me, Esme.”He grabs my hands, clutching them.But his grip is weak.“I plan to disclose everything I’m about to tell you to the privy council tomorrow.I’m not trying to avoid responsibility.In fact, I’m done avoiding responsibility.Done being a pawn in this game for fear of what could happen.I’ve stayed silent for years now.Allowed the threat of prison, or worse, to control me.I’m done with that.”
“Okay…” I draw out, still unsure what’s going on.
“Kingsley killed Jack and Callie Sloane because of a video recording their father made nearly thirty years ago.”
“Who was their father?”I ask, feeling somewhat naïve that I hadn’t taken the time to learn that myself.I was so focused on the man with the scar that I didn’t consider learning more about Callie’s family.
“A man named Warren Clark.He was a paparazzo.”
“And what was on this recording?”
He pulls his hands away, running them along his pants, the seconds stretching as I await his response.Then his eyes lock on mine.
“The murder of your uncle, aunt, and cousins.”
His statement forces all the air to whoosh from my lungs.It’s a good thing I’m sitting.Otherwise, my knees probably would have buckled under the weight of his admission.
“But they weren’t murdered.They died in—”
“An avalanche?”he interjects, his voice heavy with skepticism.“That’s what they made the world think to cover up the truth.And the truth is that Kane Kingsley was paid to dispose of your family and make it look like an accident.”
