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I make my way back to the living room, sitting down and taking a tentative sip of my whiskey before daring to open it.
When I do, the wind is knocked out of my chest. Photo evidence of the jobcarried outis inside. With a note on the back requesting prompt payment.
The home is burnt to a crisp, inside nearly gutted.
At least you got your monies worth.
Thinking of Carina having to fight to get out of the blaze makes my stomach churn. I sift through more photos, some of it on fire before firemen arrived.
There’s some state issued IDs inside, too.
Amanda Eder, the name reads on one of the stolen licenses.
“Holy fuck.” I breathe out, but it doesn’t help the burning emotion in my chest. I’d known a girl died, of course. But her name —
I never knew her name.
Never cared to know her name.
What is wrong with me? For years after the fire—after their deaths—I’d lived on the edge of insanity. Guilt nearly made me come clean to authorities many times. Conner always talked me out of it. Always kept me sane.
And how was I going to tell them about my involvement if I couldn’t remember anything? I still fucking can’t.
It was always how he kept me from coming clean. The facts.
And the fact was, I’d been high and drunk, and had no recollection of anything I did to Carina. Besides hitting her. That one moment lives in my mind as fresh as anything I’ve ever done in my life.
My fist connecting to her face, bones cracking beneath it.
It’s what my nightmares are made of.
It was as if drugs were in the driver's seat, and I was the passenger just along for the ride.
When I find a handwritten list, clearly done by my father, I stop and look it over, heart racing.
Declan and Amanda’s bodies disposed of via fire. Evidence will be burnt beyond use.
Pay off local police department to close the case.
Make sure Conner is solid in his role.
Emery recalls nothing.
Find and pay the missing girl from the bathroom.
Have fixer get solid blackmail for event girl is found.
Ensure Wes remains quiet.
Bury everything.
The last line goes around and around in my head. But one thing that strikes me is the list itself. Why make it? And why leave it here where it could be found? I guess by the time it would be, he’d be long gone. So, not his problem.
Another thing that bothers me is the mention of Wes. Now that I’m thinking about it, I haven’t seen him since that night. I don’t know if he went to Stanford as planned. I know nothing more about him, other than he tried like hell to revive his friend that night and he was awfully worried about being implicated in it all.
I drop the list onto my lap, back inside the file. Scrubbing my face and sitting back, the words rustle around inside my brain.
Make sure Conner is solid in his role.
