Page 95 of Echoes of a Silent Song

“Yeah,” she choked.“He did.”

The indomitable concrete wall of Blair Emerson had crumbled.He held her as she wept, stroking her hair and pressing kisses to the top of her head.

So what if they were sitting on a cold, hard choir room floor inmiddle-of-nowhere Illinois?So what if they were in the center of a pile of plagiarized music and demolished illusions?There was no place on earth Callum would rather be than right here.With Blair.

Because he loved her.

The truth rushed in on the wave of a new melody, but he didn’t feel immediately compelled to write it down.In fact, he didn’t care if he ever did.If God meant it for him, it would come back.And if it didn’t, he’d still remember the music of this moment.

This was why Blair had inspired him to write after so many years in the desert.Why he felt alive for the first time since Rayne’s death.

He was in love with Blair.

He loved her battle-scarred heart.Her stubborn insistence on getting up and trying again every time life coldcocked her.Her care for the kids.Their verbal sparring, their disagreements, even her prickly, exacting nature and her ridiculous cinnamon candle.All the things that had once irritated him about her now either didn’t matter or had become something he loved.

He wanted to spend his life like this.Comforting her when she was upset.Working together, giving their all to achieve a common goal.Making music with her.Feeling her rock-steady, reassuring presence at his right hand—his right hand in the choir room and in life.

Had he truly thought his real life was in Boston?Was it only a couple of weeks ago that he was counting the days until he could go back?

Now he couldn’t even fathom it.

His real life was here.In Peterson.Teaching.Composing.

With Blair.

“Callum?”

Her eyes were wide and bright with tears, her face was flushed and blotchy, and a chunk of hair had fallen across her cheek.

“Yes?”Whatever she asked him right now, he would be powerless to resist giving to her.Literally anything at all.His car.His life savings.A kidney.Whatever she needed, if it made her happy, he’d—

“I think we need to call the police.”

Oh.Right.That.

They were in something of a mess with Vic, weren’t they?His mentorand her former teacher and colleague was a pathological liar and plagiarist at best and a murderer at worst.

Yeah, they should probably do something about that.

“I agree,” he said.

She smiled, pure sunshine after a rainstorm.“You agree with me?Well, that’s a first.”

He laughed and pulled her close once more.

In an afternoon of weighty darkness and world-altering revelations, love was a welcome ray of light.

Chapter Thirty-Five

THE FOLLOWINGWednesday, Blair stood in a small observation area outside the interview room at Peterson’s police department, Chief Stephens at her right.Through the one-way glass, alone at a table, sat her former teacher.Her former colleague.Her former friend.Waiting for detectives to interview him about Iris’s death.

Normally she wouldn’t even be allowed to be here, but being Peterson royalty had its perks.Chief Stephens, after consulting with his detectives, had given her the go-ahead to observe.

She didn’t really want to be here, but she needed to be.She needed to see firsthand that Vic Nelson, who’d cared for her and nurtured her and been almost like a second father to her, had only been playing a role.She knew his every conducting gesture, every nuance of facial expression ...she could read his mind.Or so she’d thought.

She only knew the person he’d pretended to be.She didn’t know who he truly was.

By being here for this interview, maybe she’d find out.