Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“He’s not caught. He didn’t do this. I think you should go, Ethan.”
He looks at me like he’s surprised by this, shifts his attention to the ring on his pinkie finger. I don’t look at the ruby eyes.
“I need to get ready to go downtown,” I say, wanting him to take the hint and leave.
“I’ll take you.”
“No, that’s fine. Listen, I’m sorry for your loss, but there’s nothing I can do for you.”
His eyes harden and he clenches and unclenches his hands on his lap, making me remember what he did the night of the gala. How he wielded that belt with a zeal I know I saw even though he says he was forced to do it.
“Phee,” he starts, standing.
I grip my coffee mug, tell myself he’s not going to hurt me. He has no reason to. But then the front door opens, and I look down the hall to see Hamish standing there. His forehead is furrowed. He eyes Ethan’s back and I breathe a sigh of relief.
Ethan turns around.
“Mrs. Cruz,” Hamish says, stalking into the kitchen.
“Hamish. Hi.”
He looks at Ethan and doesn’t mask his surprise at seeing him. Doesn’t hide the fact that he wants him gone.
“Ethan was just leaving,” I say, and look at Ethan.
Ethan glances at me, then back at Hamish, who just raises his eyebrows.
“Right. Phee, I can call you if I need you, right?” Ethan asks, head cast down again, eyes child-like.
“I’m not sure that’s—”
“Look, what I did, those things, they were my father. You know how he was. How he really was. I never meant to hurt you.”
“You need to go. Now,” Hamish says.
“Phee?”
“Fine, Ethan. Just go.”
He nods, doesn’t acknowledge Hamish as he walks past him, just butting his shoulder against Hamish’s in a way that could be accidental before he disappears down the hall and, a moment later, out of the house.
24
SILAS
“Time of death is assessed at two hours after my client left the building, Detective. You want to tell me why, knowing that, you still dragged Mr. Cruz in here? In handcuffs, I might add?” Nigella asks, slapping a report down on the table between me and the detective.
I lean back in the uncomfortable folding chair that’s too small for my frame and catch my reflection in the two-way mirror. I need to shave, I’m hungry, and I’m fucking fed up of this bullshit.
Wells stands up, gives the report a cursory glance before putting it back down. He is very aware of what it says. The asshole dragged me down here for what exactly I don’t fucking know.
“He was handcuffed because he presented a danger to my men. And the fact remains he was the last to see the deceased.”
“Second to last. The person who killed him was the last.”
“Well, you can understand, given their history, we were still keen to talk to Mr. Cruz.”
“The shit you people get away with,” Nigella says, shaking her head. She turns to me. “Let’s go.”
I stand up, glare at Wells. “Detective,” I say and turn to follow Nigella out.
“Can we maybe not do this again anytime soon? It’s fucking early, Silas.”
“Trust me, I’d rather have been pretty much anywhere else than here.” We get to Nigella’s car, and she tosses me her keys. I take them, get into the driver’s seat. “Tell me what you know.”
Once we’re in the car, she opens her briefcase and takes out a folder. Before I pull out of the parking spot, I glance at the pictures she has acquired of the crime scene.
“Jesus.” I hate Sullivan Fox. He was a piece of shit. But when I see him lying in a circle of his own piss on the floor of his office, eyes open, a bullet hole in his forehead, it doesn’t make me feel good. The opposite. The look in his eyes, eyes that used to look like mine, is vacant. Is that how mine will look when I’m dead?
“Call Ophelia, will you?” I say and she does.
“Hello?” Ophelia answers over the car speakers.
“O. It’s me.”
“Silas!” I can hear the relief in her voice. “Where are you? What’s happening?”
“I’m on my way to the house. Time of death was two hours after I left so they had to release me.”
“Thank God.”
“Thank Nigella,” I correct. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Is Hamish there?”
“Yes, he’s here. And you should know, Ethan stopped by.”
“What?”
“Let’s talk when you’re back. I’m going to go have a shower. It’s been a really long morning.”
“You let him into the house?”
“Silas, please.”
“Fine. You be ready to talk when I’m back.”
She disconnects and I drive back a little faster than I maybe should. Once we get to the house, I thank Nigella. She leaves as I climb the stairs to the front door.
“Where is my wife?” I ask Hamish once I’m inside.
He gestures up the stairs and I go up to our bedroom. Ophelia is walking out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around herself. Her hair is clipped up and dry. I’m angry that she let Ethan in, but when I see her, and when I see how she stops and looks at me, I just take her in my arms and hold her to me. We don’t talk for a long time. I just hold her, and she clings to me.