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Crispen laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. “They can’t touch me. I’m an Allen.”

Charlie turned toward the door, her hand resting on the handle as she glanced back at him. “Funny you say that,” she said, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “Because I don’t see your dad by your side.”

His glare could have cut glass, but it didn’t faze her. If anything, it gave her a sense of satisfaction. Without another word, she opened the door and walked out, leaving Crispen alone with his bitterness.

As she made her way down the hall, a small, incredulous laugh escaped her lips.A Lifetime movie,she thought. By the time the cops were done piecing together Crispen and Ashley’s twisted little saga, they’d have the perfect plot for one.

All she could do now was hope they cast someone stunning to play her part.

Down the hall she entered another hospital room. One she wanted to be in because the man currently in the bed was the only one who mattered to her. “How’s he doing?” she asked Truck as she stared at Hemlock lying in the bed.

Truck stood with his arms crossed over his chest, shaking his head at his brother. “He’s being an ass.”

Charlie walked further into the room. “Cut him some slack, Truck, he almost died. She gave Hemlock a wink.

“Yeah, cut me some slack, brother,” Hemlock mumbled, making Charlie smile.

Epilogue

Charlie closed the door, relieved the cops were done with the investigation. She stared at the pristine floor remembering Ashley lying dead… her eyes lifeless staring up at her.

By the time Hemlock had been released from the hospital, the condo was almost unrecognizable. Truck had handled the cleanup with the precision of someone who had done this kind of thing before. Every trace of the chaos that had unfolded had been wiped away.

Charlie stood at the threshold, eyes scanning the place as she entered. It didn’t feel like the same apartment anymore. The bloodstains, the shattered glass, the overturned furniture—everything had been scrubbed clean.

She appreciated the help. She really did. Truck was one of the few people she could rely on. But there was something unsettling about how easy it had been for him to erase the signs of violence that had been so recent.

The door clicked shut behind her as she stepped further into the condo. Her gaze lingered on the spot where Ashley had last been. She had never imagined it would end the way it had.

She had hoped, maybe foolishly, that the cleanup might wipe away the memory. She didn’t know if the memory would ever truly go away, but she’d learn to deal with it… like she did with all the other uncomfortable memories. Just like the information the officer had given her. She was trying to wrap her mind around it all. According to the officer, after the accounts of what had happened in the condo, they had reopened her parents’ accident. According to the police, their deaths had been ruled suspicious. Now they were being ruled murder. Once they dug into Ashley’s life, they found proof she was directly responsible for their deaths.

She leaned against the door, still catching her breath. The weight of the officer’s words hung heavy in the air, making the small condo feel more like a prison than a place of refuge.Murder.Her parents’ deaths, which had been ruled a tragic accident all these years, were now being connected to Ashley. The name of her friend, once a comfort, now felt like a curse.

She ran a hand through her hair, trying to piece everything together. Ashley had always been a part of the family—almost like a sister. But if the cops were right, everything she thought she knew about Ashley was a lie. Weeks of investigation had turned up proof of Ashley’s involvement, evidence that pointed to her being responsible for the deaths of her parents.

The realization their deaths weren’t an accident was like a punch to the gut. And now, knowing that Ashley… her best friend, the person she’d trusted the most… was behind it all. Charlie could barely comprehend it.

The officers had mentioned surveillance footage, financial records, and witness statements that tied Ashley to the scene of the crash. But none of it made sense. What motive could Ashley have? Why would she kill the people who had always treated her like family?

They’d informed her Crispen had recovered and was released from the hospital. He had been placed under arrest for non-related things to what he and Ashley had done to her. He hadn’t spent more than forty-eight hours before being released. Now, it seemed like he was walking free, no questions asked.

If Charlie had to guess, it was more like Mr. Allen had made a substantial contribution to the police department. Or to some government office. That’s when she realized Crispen didn’t matter… his father didn’t matter. The only person who mattered was Hemlock. She got her answer in the way Crispen had glared at her; the smug look on his face told her all she would ever need to know about him.

Shoving off from the door, she dropped the keys in the little wooden bowl and set her purse on the entryway table.Feels like home. She found Hemlock standing at the kitchen sink, walking up behind him she rested her forehead against his back, and then reached her arms around his waist wanting to be close. Charlie appreciated that he didn’t ask any questions. He just continued washing the few dishes in the sink quietly. She would eventually tell him about what the police had told her, she just needed a minute to quiet her mind.

Charlie had promised herself the entire drive home she wouldn’t cry. Swallowing hard, she let go of Hemlock, then stepped back and smiled when he faced her. Reaching around her neck, she pulled the long silver chain that held a silver cross, a Saint Christopher medal and a small tear drop half-caret diamond ina silver basket cage. The cops had found it amongst Ashley’s things in the apartment.

“I told you I’d get it back.” She tried keeping the smile on her face, but the necklace didn’t make her happy as it had in the past. Now when she looked at it, it made her sad. It was a stark reminder of not only her parents’ death, but that her best friend had been a psycho. Staring at Hemlock, she couldn’t help but look at the long scar that ran down his side. It was a reminder that you never really knew a person.

Hemlock leaned against the kitchen counter drying his hands. Setting the dishtowel down he smiled at Charlie. Shoving off the counter, he stepped up to her. Toying with the necklace, he was happy for Charlie. “You did.”

Charlie slipped the chain from her neck and placed the necklace into his hand, letting it puddle in his palm. “Can you keep it for me? I don’t think I want it right now.”

“If that’s what you want.”

“It is.”

Hemlock set the necklace aside, then signaled Charlie to come to him, which she did. Six months it had taken him to completely heal, and she had stayed with him ever bitchy step of the way. Gripping her hips, he lifted her up onto the counter.