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I rub my face with my hands, raking them through my hair until I’m sure I pull out some strands.

A sharp ring shatters my thoughts. My phone. I nearly throw it across the room before I see the caller ID—Kane. I freeze, staring at the screen like it’s about to bite me. Two weeks ago, I would have picked up immediately. Now I feel sick.

I answer it, heart lodged in my throat. I don’t say a word, waiting for him to speak first.

“Alex?” His voice cuts through the silence. “Is that you?”

“You shouldn’t be calling me,” I say, my voice flat, colder than I intend.

“I know,” he says quickly. “I know but I need to talk to you. Please. Just five minutes. You want to hear this.”

“Kane, I don’t have—”

“It’s about Hawthorne,” he cuts me off.

That stops me dead. I clench my jaw, grip the counter so tight, my knuckles ache. “You have two minutes.”

I hear some papers rustling on the other end then, “Whilst you were looking into Haze, I was too. I think I was close to figuring it out as well.” I swear I can hear my own heart racing in my chest. “I wanted to know who Hawthorne met up with a few days before she died. It looks like she was going into partnership with someone, but no one can tell me who. I was about to give up when I came across an insurance document for a car that was filed four weeks before the accident.”

I don’t say anything, letting him continue.

“The car was filed under her name, but it had a previous owner.”

I feel my throat close up. “Who?”

“Jonathan Vasilyev.”

My breath catches, the phone almost slipping out of my hands. “What?”

“He had been meeting up with her for a few months. It looks like he gave her that car as a way to sweeten their deal.”

“Kane…” I start, my scalp prickling. “This could be a coincidence. Maybe they knew each other. There could be a thousand explanations as to why he gave her that car.”

He sighs. “Alex, what’s the first thing they teach you in the OCU?”

My stomach falls because he’s right. What are the chances of Jonathan Vasilyev knowing Hawthorne?

Slim to none.

“There’s no such thing as coincidence.”

“Right,” he says. “There is a thread here. You and I both see it.”

“So, you’re saying Jonathan killed Hawthorne?” Nausea overwhelms me. I think I might empty my guts right in the middle of the kitchen.

“I don’t know, but he’s involved somehow. He gave her the car she died in. I think he planned to partner with her and sell Haze for profit. Maybe he changed his mind when he saw how much money he could make. Maybe he decided to kill her and take everything for himself. You said the person behind this was in The Snake, right? High enough to keep it all hidden. That’s Jonathan. Think about it.”

“Why should I believe you?” The room around me is spinning. I don’t want to believe him, but Kane is a way better detective that I could ever dream to be. Despite the part of me whispering to not trust him, the other, much larger part, knows he’s not lying to me.

“Because you know I’m telling the truth, Alex. It was only a matter of time before you got to this as well. You’re a good detective and you know as well as I do that this is the right answer. Jonathan Vasilyev is involved, and I think he’s behind it all.”

A tremor goes off inside me, and my entire body shivers. Rowan’s father is one of the most powerful men in Senna. Heholds enough power and loyalty within The Snake to pull this off. We had been looking in the right direction, just the wrong person.

“Alex?” Kane says, pulling me back. “Are you okay?”

“Can you send me an insurance document and anything that ties him to this?” I manage, my voice tight. “Anything that ties him to Hawthorne and Haze.”

“Yeah, of course I’ll send it to your email now,” he says. I hear the clack of keys on a keyboard.