Page 42 of By the Time You Read This (Raisa Susanto #3)

Chapter Thirty

Delaney

Day Seven

“Take your hands off of me,” Delaney told Roan through gritted teeth. She didn’t want to make a scene but she would.

Roan immediately stepped back, holding up his palms. “Whoa. No. Sorry. That was way more threatening than intended.”

Delaney stared at him. “I think it was exactly as threatening as intended.”

His mouth tightened. “Okay, maybe. Can we talk?”

“No,” Delaney said, heading toward the front of the car. He kept pace but on the other side, sliding into the passenger seat before she could get to the locks. “Get out.”

“Drive north,” was all he said.

Again, she stared at him, incredulous. He was acting like he had some kind of power over her even though he wasn’t holding a gun or any kind of weapon. She could simply ignore him.

But then he might draw attention to both of them. That was the exact opposite of what she wanted.

Still, she said, “No. Get out.”

“Delaney,” Roan said. “I know you don’t trust me. But you need to right now. You’re about to go do something stupid, aren’t you?”

Delaney didn’t answer. She didn’t say anything, actually.

He visibly swallowed. “Babe, it’s a trap. They’re trying to draw you out.”

“Who is?” she snapped.

“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. It was stupid. 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 no someday .

“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.”

No part of this conversation was going as planned. “What?”

“I got into the cold-case community a while back,” he said, pacing now. “I’m not saying it was a good idea, but I learned a lot. About police work, about police in general. I knew they were interested in me. They’d already brought me in because I’d talked to Emily before her death. I had a solid alibi, thank god, but then Raisa contacted me.”

“You thought they might suspect you, despite the alibi,” Delaney said.

“Yeah, so I followed them following you.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Right.”

He snapped his fingers. “You went into a bar. A hole-in-the-wall. St. Ivany went in after you. Raisa sat in the SUV.”

Delaney pressed her lips together. “That was sloppy of them.”

“And of you,” he said, and she had to concede he had a point.

“They dropped an AirTag on me,” Delaney muttered, and then realized that letting them do that had been sloppy in and of itself. Best to keep it moving. “Okay, so then you decided to sleep with me?”

“No,” he all but shouted. “I just wanted to talk. I knew who you were, but didn’t want to scare you off.” He paused. “The sleeping-with-you thing ... well. I just think you’re hot.”

She stared at him. “My sister killed your brother.”

“And no matter what you might think, you’re not her,” he said, and she realized in that moment he must have been to excellent therapy.

Delaney waved the argument away. “Anyway . . . ?”

“They recruited Gabriela Cruz to provoke you into making a mistake,” he finally said on a rush. “I know her from her online presence. She bragged about it in a private chat, and I got sent the screenshot from a friend. The police miked her up to go talk to you on the beach. They want you to think she’s ... I don’t know ... something other than she is. Which is a basic college girl too interested in police work for her own good.”

Delaney thought about the beach, the bonfire.

“ No one has cigarettes anymore, ” Gabbi had said.

Delaney had been pleased she hadn’t had to approach the girl first. But, of course, she’d been so stupid. Still, she was certain of one thing. “No, she’s lying to them.”

“How can you be so sure?” Roan asked, like he really did want her to give him reassurance. Her stomach tightened. “Delaney. How do you know that you’re not the one being played?”