Page 57 of Twisted Truths

His gaze drops. Guilt flickers across his face, but mostly he just looks tired. “I just think maybe … maybe it’s time to let it go. We haven’t found anything. There’s no proof anyone else was involved.”

My body vibrates with anger, and I open my mouth to say something I’m sure I’ll regret when my phone rings. We both look down at the screen.

It’s Grimshaw.

“Are you sure you can trust him?” Levi asks warily.

I snatch up my phone and accept the call as I push through the throng of people paying their respects.

“What did you find?” I ask, a little harsher than I’d intended. Thankfully he doesn’t seem to notice.

“A couple of interesting things,” the private investigator says without formalities.

I step outside onto the front porch, the fresh air rushing into my lungs like I’ve been underwater. The sun is almost gone, the sky stained with fading light. I move over to the large tree in the corner of Paige and Levi’s front yard for some privacy while trying to calm the storm still spinning inside of me.

“Such as?”

“I’ve been digging into your stepdad’s financials,” he says. “Something is off. There are patterns to suggest he might have been … under pressure of some kind.”

I stiffen. “You think he was being blackmailed?”

“Could be,” Grimshaw replies. “There are numerous withdrawals over the past six months leading up to the murders. Some odd transfers. Like he was paying someone off. I’ve got someone looking into it further to see if we can find where the money was going, but that’s not what I was calling for.”

I wait him out, my stomach knotting.

“We got information on the partial print off the weapon. It took some coercion, but we got a name—Anthony Robinson. Does that name mean anything to you?”

“Anthony Robinson?” I repeat. The name hits like static—familiar, but out of focus. Barrenridge is a small town, but I haven’t lived here for six years. “I don’t know. It sounds familiar, but I can’t place it. Have you run it against any of Solomon’s flock?”

“No matches,” is his gruff response. But I’m not sold. Those people could be going by any name. Before I can voice my concerns, though, Grimshaw continues. “Keep thinking on it, and I’ll keep digging on my end.”

He hangs up and I stare down at my phone, cold seepinginto my spine. Anthony Robinson. Something about the name rubs wrong, like a word you mispronounce but can’t figure out why.

“Nash?” A soft hand lands on my shoulder, pulling me from my thoughts.

I lift my head and see Sadie standing beside me. “Hey, Sades. Thanks for coming. Didn’t think I’d see you back in Barrenridge, though. You here for good?”

She smiles sadly. “I am now.”

“I’m really happy for you. Rowan’s a good man.”

“Yeah, he is.” She glances over her shoulder, to where Rowan’s standing beside his bike smoking a cigarette, before turning back to me, a pained expression on her face. “Listen, I—I didn’t mean to overhear your conversation.”

I lift a brow in question.

“Anthony Robinson.” She chews on her thumbnail. “What are you getting yourself into?”

My jaw tightens. “Wait—youknowhim?”

She nods. “You could say that. So do you. He was a few years ahead of us in school, but he doesn’t go by that name anymore.”

My face must portray my confusion, because she continues.

“He goes by Snake now.”

I glance over at where Rowan’s waiting for her. “He’s a Ridge Rider?”

She nods. “Yeah, the dangerous kind. He tried to have Rowan killed—almost succeeded—then he vanished. No one can find him.”