Page 18

“Okay.” I lead him out of the bedroom and down the hall. There’s no caution tape on the door, which honestly surprises me, but it could just be that Odie took it down once he got the all-clear from local law enforcement.

My grandfather’s desk is right where it was.

There are papers scattered all over the top of the once-gleaming mahogany desk, as well as the carpeted floor. But it’s the bloodstained carpet right in front of the closet that strangles my ability to speak.

Riley moves up beside me, and his hand takes mine.

I normally hate being touched.

But right now, his hand grants me quiet strength and eases my heartache rather than spiking my anxiety.

So I hold on. And take my first step back into the room where my life nearly ended.

“I came in to check on him after I finished straightening up the living room. He’d been here nearly all day.”

“You said nearly . What time did he come up here?”

“Maybe eleven? Odie showed up right as we sat down to breakfast, and that was about nine-thirty. I left them and went for a run. When I got back, Odie was gone, and my grandfather was already in his study. I brought him lunch about noon, but he didn’t touch it.

” My gaze lands on a plate turned upside down on the floor. “That was his dinner.”

“Did he do anything out of the ordinary?”

I shake my head. “Aside from stepping out to use the restroom, he was in here all day. I assumed he was writing. He’d often disappear up here for hours at a time to work on his book.” Tears blur my vision, but I blink them away.

“What else do you remember from that night?”

I take a deep breath. “I came up and brought him dinner, but he’d insisted that he wasn’t hungry. I noticed that he seemed a bit frustrated, so I opened his window for him.” I point to the window I’d opened. A decision that ultimately saved my life.

“That’s the window you fled from?”

“Yes. While I was in here, something broke downstairs. I started for the door, but my grandfather—” I close my eyes, recalling the fear on his face in that moment.

“He’d looked terrified. Told me to get in the closet and stay quiet.

I’d argued with him. Told him that we needed to call the police, but he said—” I trail off, the lump in my throat becoming so large it hurts to breathe.

“He told me that I would call the police when I got the chance, but nothing was more important to him than me, and he needed me to be safe.”

“Meaning he knew someone was coming for him.”

“I think so.” I release his hand and cross the room, pausing in front of the closet.

Then, reaching forward, I tug the accordion doors open and study the space I’d hidden in.

“I saw the intruder come in, but he didn’t even bother asking for anything.

He just shot him. Two shots. My grandfather fell backward, and I covered my mouth to stifle the scream. ”

“Is that when he found you?”

“No. My grandfather’s body fell in front of the doors, and the murderer started going through my grandfather’s things. He opened the safe and stole what was inside. Most of it, anyway.” I gesture to the wall safe that still sits open and empty.

“What happened next?” He’s hanging on every word I say, and even as I know he needs to hear it, I can barely bring myself to speak the words.

“The thief dropped something, and I jumped. I hit an umbrella and knocked it over. That’s when he found me.”

Riley turns to survey the room. “That one?” he asks, gesturing to the black umbrella still lying on the floor. Did Odie clean nothing up?

“Yes. When I knew I’d been found out, I held onto it and rammed it into the killer’s gut.

I tried to make it to the door, but he caught me.

Hit me with the weight of his body and knocked the air from my lungs.

” The entire night plays out in my memory like a twisted horror movie.

If only I could scream at the screen and tell my grandfather to get in the closet with me.

Or lock the door and call the police so the killer never had the chance to get into the room.

“The killer told me that everyone would think I did it. That I handed him a get-out-of-jail-free card because I was a deranged former alcoholic.”

Riley crosses his arms, a muscle in his jaw tensing. I try not to focus on it, try not to let my mind take that and run with it.

“I asked him who he was, and he said he was someone owed something.”

“Which fits the profile of a hired killer,” he adds. “I doubt your grandfather would have been doing business with him, so I’m guessing it wasn’t personal between him and Fletcher.”

“No. My grandfather was a good man.” I clear my throat.

“Anyway, I fought back and ran toward the window because I knew I couldn’t get to the door in time.

” I cross toward the window and point to the small wooden table near my father’s high-back reading chair.

“This is where I hit my head after he tackled me. I kicked him, and when he released me, I climbed out the window.”

Riley moves toward the window and opens it. He sits on the windowsill and leans out, keeping hold on the edge of the window.

My stomach lurches in fear. What if he falls?

“You climbed along this ledge?” he asks.

“Yes. The killer leaned out the window with the gun, so I jumped. There was no other direction for me to go.”

“And you landed on your grandfather’s car.” He stands then turns to look into the distance.

“Yes. He yelled out the window at me, but I ran as fast as I could into the gardens.”

Riley’s gaze drifts over the space and toward the gardens. “You found a hiding place?”

“I was always excellent at hide-and-seek,” I tell him. “No one knows these grounds like I do.”

“Good. I want to see the path you took. Every step. And I want to see where you hid.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Probably nothing. But when you’re looking for answers, it’s important to not overlook anything.”