Page 90 of Luck of the Devil

I released a bitter laugh. “My mother never made anything easy for me.”

He paused before he said, “She told Hannah that you had to come to her, that she couldn’t go to you.” He gave me a pointed look. “What if that was your mother’s way of entrusting the key with Hannah but protecting your aunt at the same time?”

“You could be right,” I said, mulling it over. “My dad and Hannah’s last words were harsh. If my mother thought my father was capable of murder, she might have been worried about what he would do if he saw her, especially if he thought she was stirring up trouble.” I shuddered. I still couldn’t mesh the monster my aunt had described with the man I’d known. He’d fallen to pieces after Andi’s kidnapping. My mother had been the strong one.

Further evidence my father may have thought he was responsible. What would I do if I thought someone I loved had been murdered because of my bad choices?

I supposed I’d have to let myself love someone before I could understand the true depth of those feelings.

I ran a hand over my face, my brain numb with exhaustion. I felt like we had more pieces to the puzzle, but none of them seemed to fit anything we knew.

“We’re gonna find out who did this,” Malcolm said in a firm tone. “We’re gonna get justice.”

I wanted to believe that, but at the moment it felt hopeless. I knew exhaustion was clouding my emotions, because I’d solved cases with less evidence that we had right now. We just had to follow the breadcrumbs, and that usually took time. I needed patience, something I was fresh out of.

“You need to rest,” Malcolm said. “All of this is a lot, and you’re still recovering.”

“Still recovering is a kind way to say detoxing,” I said bitterly.

He cast me a glance. “You want me to be blunt?”

“No,” I said with a sigh. “But you could have called me on my bullshit. Further proof you’re taking my feelings into consideration.” I gave him a tepid grin. “That you’re nice.”

He snorted again, but he didn’t contradict me.

“You said you’re seeing a therapist. I suspect she’d want you to own up to being nice.”

“You have no idea what we talk about,” he scoffed.

“True, but I doubt your therapist is encouraging you to be mean.”

“Maybe we’re talking about setting boundaries, which some people would see as mean.” After a second, he shrugged as though even he thought the suggestion was bullshit. “If I admit to being nice, will you try to take a nap?”

“You want a moment of peace and quiet?” I teased.

His lips tipped into the hint of a grin. “If I get to drive in silence for an hour or two, I won’t complain.”

I released a genuine laugh, then leaned back in my seat. “Fine.”

I closed my eyes, knowing there was more we needed to discuss, but I was too tired to dig through my brain to figure it out. Malcolm was right. I needed sleep, and when I woke, I’d be refreshed and ready to tackle this with a fresh perspective.

Despite the multiple thoughts racing through my head, exhaustion pulled me under, and the hum of the tires on the road lulled me to sleep.

Chapter 24

When I woke, it took me a few seconds to figure out why I was in a dark car, parked in front of a small, warmly lit modern cabin with cedar planks and large glass windows trimmed in black. A full porch ran the length of the house. The front door was on the left side of the porch, and a set of rocking chairs sat in front of the bank of windows.

Confused, I turned to see James sitting behind his steering wheel, staring at the house with a look of indecision.

“Where are we?” I asked, sitting up. Obviously somewhere he was having second thoughts about visiting.

“My house.”

My heart sunk. “You look like you’re not sold on me being here.” He’d said we were going to stay at his house last night, but I’d gotten too sick for us to go. It was obvious he was reconsidering. “We don’t have to stay here. We can go to your office or a hotel.” I tried to smile, but it was weak at best. “I’ll even pay.”

He turned and gave me a tight smile, the lights from the porch cast shadows across his face. “It’s just been a rough day.”

Guilt hit me like a freight train. “Sorry I dragged you into this.”