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He moves his head, pursing his mouth, his actions adding up to a pile of nonverbal anger that finally becomes words. “I got the trace report on the phone that texted that message to you, Lindsay. And the fingerprints came back on your brake line.”
I sit up, heart racing.
“And?”
“The phone was traced back to one you bought with your credit card yesterday morning.”
“What?”
“And your fingerprints are the only ones on the cut brake lines on your car.”
Chapter 39
I’ve never had someone look at me like Drew is looking at me.
“What? What are you saying?” I cry out. “It wasn’t me! You were with me all day!”
“I know.” He looks back at my bedroom door and slowly closes it.
Then he locks it.
“We’ve swept the rest of your house. It’s clean.” He sits on my bed, his body pulsating with heat. I can feel his questions, his anxious need for me to give him whatever information he requires to solve this problem.
“You don’t actually think I would cut my own brake lines and then text myself a fake text to make it look like—Drew!” Hysteria rises up. His eyes pierce the clawing, desperate need for him to believe me.
“I know you didn’t do it.”
I’m in his arms, throwing myself at him, bandages and bruises be damned. He’s hugging me and caressing my back, making small sounds of comfort. I sob with relief.
My mind races. Not only did they try to kill me, they taunted me. Worse—they set it up to look like I’m utterly unhinged, and sabotaging myself for attention.
What’s their end game? Where does this all lead? And how will my parents ever believe me in the face of this madness that John, Stellan and Blaine have unleashed?
A politician.
A major league baseball player.
A television personality.
No one will believe me. Ever. Their word against mine?
I am so screwed.
“I know you didn’t, Lindsay. I’ve had someone tailing you the entire time. That means this is some kind of inside job.”
“Inside job?”
“Someone who works for your father is setting you up. Probably has been all along.”
“No! Who?”
“I have no idea. I had my suspicions—have had them all these years.” His hand touches my jaw, fingers stopping at my lips. “I’ve gone over this a thousand times in my mind. The pieces don’t fit together. They never did. Nothing about four years ago makes sense, and this new turn of events is even more crazymaking.”
There’s that word. Crazy.
Except Drew’s not calling me crazy.
“What do we do?”
