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“Detective Maeve St. Ivany,” he said, and then hesitated. “And your sister.”
She blinked at him, hardly able to comprehend that this drifter, this man who’d picnicked with her on the boat, could know about Raisa. And ... Maeve.
Of course.
The woman at the bar.
Did that mean it had been Raisa hunting her all along?
She closed her eyes, then realized that was giving Roan trust he didn’t deserve. When she opened them, though, he was just studying her, his eyes earnest, his hands clear of his pockets.
“Why should I believe you?” she asked.
“Just give me a chance to explain.” Roan took out his phone and punched something in before holding out a map to her. “Go to this cove. It has a long road leading down to the water—we’ll be able to tell if anyone is following us.”
That was a smart move. Delaney thought about her other plan, which he’d been right about. Itwasstupid. She was going to confront Gabriela without much of a plan.
Figuring out what was going on with Roan might be more productive at the moment.
The entire drive she kept her attention equally divided between the road, Roan, and the rearview mirror.
They didn’t speak again until they got to the rocky shoreline.
He started to say something when she parked, but she got out of the car, heading toward the water.
“Who are you?” she asked, when they both reached the sand.
“Your sister killed my brother,” Roan said. “Mitchell Johnston.”
Delaney knew the name immediately. A stabbing outside a bar.
Back when she’d been chasing Isabel, she hadn’t been sure the man was one of Isabel’s victims. But the prosecutor’s team had found photos and receipts linking Isabel to the bar.
“Are you here to take your revenge?” she asked, eyes on the water, giving him the chance if he wanted to seize it. All it would take was a quick strike, and then he could simply dump her body out here.
He breathed out. “I thought about it.”
She glanced at him, surprised. She’d thought he’d either deny it or kill her.
Roan nodded. “Not ... with any intent, really. But Isabel destroyed my family. It wasn’t just my brother who died that night—he took my mother with him. Then me, honestly. I’ve only come back to life in the past couple years, and even then, it was mostly my hatred of Isabel that kept me going.”
“I look like her,” Delaney said, not sure why she was goading him on. It was almost like she couldn’t help herself. She thought of that man last night, the family he must have. She thought of how she’d let him drive away with Gabbi, a woman she suspected was a serial killer on the verge of a complete breakdown. Delaney took Roan’s hand, placed it against her throat. His palm flexed against the quick pulse he must feel there. “Don’t you want to?”
For one heartbeat, his hand tightened, just a whisper of pressure, really. And then he stumbled backward, appalled.
“No, no. Fuck no, Delaney, Jesus,” Roan muttered. “What the hell?”
She turned back to the water as if nothing had happened, despite the fact that she could feel the echo of his warmth against her skin. “Then what do you want?”
“Okay,” he drawled out. “Someday we’re going to talk about that.”
Delaney shot him a look. There would be nosomeday.
“Detective St. Ivany is hunting Emily Logan’s killer,” Roan said. “I know you know who that is—you’re not dumb.”
She nodded to get him to go on.
“And she’s hunting you,” Roan continued. “That night you and I met? I had talked to Raisa the day before. She didn’t seem to suspect me of much, but ... well. I’m not proud of it. But I wanted to see where they were going with their investigation, so I followed them.”